


You Change Everything

by Morgalahan



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Agents of Fen'Harel, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Book: Dragon Age - The Masked Empire, Do-Over, F/M, Modern Girl in Thedas, POV Original Female Character, Solas Smut, Solas Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-03-25 02:49:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 82,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13824897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgalahan/pseuds/Morgalahan
Summary: Lyrial finds herself in another world, alone with Solas, who she knows all too well. But nothing is what she expects. She’s not in the right time or the right place. But this gives her the chance to change things. To stop Solas from giving his orb to Corypheus. The question is, will this really change everything? And will it be for the better?





	1. How like a dream is this?

I’m falling, dizzy, disorientated. I can’t make up from down, left from right. There’s cold air blowing against me but I’m helpless to stop it. Then an icy shock takes me. I’m still moving but the world around me is dark and cold and I can’t breathe. I’m sinking now, deeper, deeper. I see little, hear nothing. I try to make my limbs work but they don’t listen to me. My lungs are burning and I can see a cloud of silvery bubbles above me in the dark. I yearn towards them but they drift away.

The pressure grows, the pain mounting until I can’t stand it anymore. I open my mouth and ice floods in. Then everything is peaceful, calm... and the darkness carries me away.

* * *

Awareness creeps up on me. I linger in the haze between waking and dreaming, basking in the warmth and comfort. The fog lifts a little, and I come to the realisation that I’m not alone. I can feel someone pressed against me. An arm draped across my waist with fingers brushing the skin of my abdomen.

I tense and wakefulness hits me like a speeding truck.

_What the fuck is this?_

Sleep always finds me alone in my bed, with the possible comforting weight of my cat across my thighs. I don’t go to sleep with anyone and I never wake up with company.

I’m afraid now. Who is this person? I shift, trying to somehow move away. The arm flexes and the fingers press into my skin.

The sound of gentle breathing makes itself known to me. Whoever they are, they’re still asleep. And now I notice something else. There’s something firm pressing into the skin of my backside.

My cheeks burn and a flush spreads like wildfire down to my chest.

_Oh god oh god oh god._

I’m in bed with a naked man. And he’s hard.

And I’m naked too.

I like to sleep nude, so this usually wouldn't bother me. But now?

My breathing quickens and I try to take deep breaths through my nose. Whoever they are, I don’t want to wake them up.

I pause and try to take stock of my situation.

Whatever I’m lying on is not exactly soft. It feels more like padding over hard ground. I’m mostly covered by a blanket and when I peek out I notice two things immediately. One, it’s fucking freezing. And two, it’s dark as all hell. I can make out a dim orange glow coming from somewhere nearby. There's enough light to pick out a few details but not much more. I can hear something too, a sort of muted howling, like the sound of a strong wind coming from a long way away. The smell of the place is familiar, but I can’t quite place it.

I debate trying to ease my way out from under his arm and out of the blanket. But I’m nude, and from the way the air feels, it’s like I’d be naked outside on a winter’s day. I try to think up a plan.

The penis pressing into my backside is a little distracting.

_Think think think. What’s the last thing I can remember?_

I close my eyes and focus. Flashes of my room, my laptop, my cat, my office… they all come and go. But they feel like old memories somehow. Or… like trying to remember a dream.

The effort does not make me feel better.

The tips of my nose and ears are icy. I duck my head back under the blankets. The smell is strange and not unpleasant. I can smell him. It’s a sort of musky, masculine odour with a hint of something more, something wild. The smell of a forest after it rains.

I realise I need to look at him. I need to see who this person is at least. At the moment he’s a complete unknown, and all the more terrifying for it.

Slowly. I’ll take it slowly. No sudden movements. Just turn over as though I were shifting in my sleep. If I’m careful I can keep his arm more or less as it is.

My muscles are tense and for a moment I worry that he’ll somehow notice this. I begin to shift my weight, to ease myself over. When I’m lying on my back I stop.

His arm is now draped across my stomach with the fingers brushing the skin of my hip. It’s much lower than I want it to be.

Something feels strange about my body too. I can’t place it though. It’s probably just this whole situation freaking me the fuck out.

The breathing next to me is still, even, deep. Warm breath touches the skin of my neck. His head is very close to mine.

I turn and look.

It takes a while for details to emerge. There’s not much light and my eyes have trouble making sense of what I’m seeing. He’s facing me and we’re almost nose to nose. I pull back, trying for more perspective.

The first thing I realise is that he has no hair. Orange light glimmers along the smooth skin of his scalp. Then my gaze is drawn down, to his single, visible ear.

_No. Not possible._

My eyes pick out other things, other familiar features. A strong nose, slightly hooked. Deep-set, long lashed eyes ringed with the bruised flesh of someone who does not sleep often or well enough. Soft, full lips, parted now. A dimpled chin.

I’m staring. I can’t seem to tear my eyes off of that face, that beautiful, familiar face.

Then I realise that of course I’m dreaming. It’s the only possible explanation. There’s no way this situation could be real. No way I could be naked in bed with him.

It’s not as though I haven’t had similar dreams, similar fantasies.

My mindset shifts. It’s not frightening anymore. Not strange at all. There’s something different about this dream, to be sure. But I have a very vivid imagination.

My arm moves almost on it’s own and I bring my hand up. There’s something I’ve been wanting to do for a long, long time now. I reach towards that beautiful face and trace the tip of my thumb over his bottom lip.

It’s soft and smooth, and twitches under my touch.

His breathing stills and he opens his eyes.

I can’t make out their colour, although I know it. A dark grey-blue, like the sky moments before a storm. Right now, I can make out that they’re open but all I can see are two small points of orange light.

“You are awake," he says.

He seems to realise where his hand is and withdraws it. I can feel a distance now between us that was not there while he was asleep.

“I apologise for the situation you find yourself in," he continues. "It must be disconcerting, to say the least. I assure you my reasons for this were related only to your well-being.”

I’m not sure what to say to this. How is a person supposed to react to finding themselves naked in a stranger’s bed?

“I… don't…” I pause, then start again. “Where am I?”

Something flickers across his face. An expression of relief? Surprise?

He sighs and I feel his warm breath blow across my neck and face. “We are in a small cave, taking shelter from the blizzard.”

“Blizzard?” I ask.

His studies me in silence for a moment. “How much do you remember of how you came to be here?” He stresses the here, as though it has some sort of extra meaning.

I shake my head. “Nothing.”

This dream is becoming stranger. Usually by now there would be less talking and more, well, doing.

I roll over onto my side so that I’m facing him. He pulls back a bit so that we’re not touching. I can still feel the heat of his skin against mine.

I reach for his face and he catches my hand. His grip is firm, not painful, but strong even so.

“You fell into this world before me. Happily, you landed in the deep snow. Unfortunately, you were not clothed. I found this cave and invested considerable effort into warming you and keeping you alive. We are trapped here for the moment, until the storm passes.”

The sound of his voice has a soothing, hypnotic effect, but the meaning behind what he’d said catches up with me.

“Fell into this world? What do you mean?” I ask.

Certain things are lining up in my brain. Certain impossibilities and the incredible realness of this supposed dream.

“I had hoped you would be able to tell me,” he says. “All I am certain of is that you fell from the Fade to land nearly at my feet.”

I shudder. ‘Fell from the Fade’ is an expression I know. But none of this is familiar otherwise. Only him. We’re in a cave taking shelter from a blizzard? Where though?

I close my eyes and try to think past the growing sense of dislocation. This is wrong. All wrong.

He didn’t say anything about a rift. He didn’t mention Haven. I’m not in a cell with an angry Seeker demanding answers. All wrong.

_Never mind the fact that all this is impossible._

I realise that there’s a good, non-sexual reason that I’m naked with him. That whole shared body heat thing you see in movies or read in books. He’d been trying to keep me alive and I’d responded by touching his face and reaching to do it again.

_Oh fuck, this is all wrong._

“Are you well?” He asks.

I shake my head. I don’t know what to say anymore. What to do. This is all too much. Too big a mixture of my every fantasy and possible nightmare.

“Turn over to face away from me.” It’s a command. “And I’ll resume holding you. It’s clear you’ve not yet recovered.”

I blush and cover my face with my hands, but I do as he says. All things considered, it’s easier not to see him right now.

His arm wraps around my waist and he pulls me flush against him. I’m acutely aware of every point of contact, especially of the firm length pressed against me.

“I apologise for any discomfort and for my current… state.” His breath brushes my ear. “It is not my intention to be inappropriate, but some things cannot be helped.”

He’s so warm and I realise that I had actually become cold. It’s hard to relax and I’m so, so aware of him.

“Rest," he says.

“I’m sorry.” I reply. “I’m sorry for putting you in this position.”

He chuckles. I can feel it in his chest. The double meaning of my words becomes clear to me and I blush even more furiously.

“You wake to find yourself naked in bed with me, and you apologise to me. How curious.”

I shake my head again and say nothing. What can I say? How can I explain to him that I know him well enough to know that he’d never do anything inappropriate. Hell, I’ve never seen him do more than kiss before, and that was with someone he was in an active relationship with.

Of course, what I’d seen isn’t matching up with what I’m experiencing.

_So who the fuck knows anyway?_

I concentrate on my breathing. I try to think.

This is Solas. Why was he forced to warm me with his body heat? Why couldn’t he use magic to do it? There’s a lot not adding up for me. Way too much.

I fell from the Fade? How is that even possible? People don’t just fall out of the Fade, not even in Thedas. And how do you go from being in my world, a world with no magic, to being here? Why aren’t we in Haven? The snow is at least familiar, but nothing else.

I need to figure things out. Most importantly, what to say to him. I need to ask questions so I can work out where I am, but anything I ask will give him information as well. He’ll be able to learn a lot from which questions I ask him.

Maybe I should just keep silent, pretend I have no idea what’s going on. But shit, this is Solas.

How can I stop myself from reacting to him? I already want to touch him again. Feeling him against me, especially that one spot, is bringing warmth to certain parts of me. A kind of warmth I’m certain wasn’t his actual goal.

It’s not just that it’s him. That he’s pressed along me. That’s a big fucking part of it, but no. It’s that he’s real. I can feel him. For the first time, ever. When I had never, not even once, thought this would or could happen.

_Fictional characters do not just spring to life._

My feelings for him have never been tied to the need for him to exist though. I’ve done some research, looked into how this shit works. Yes, it turns out you can have real feelings for people who aren’t real themselves. Apparently our stupid bodies don’t know the difference between falling in love with a real person and one who’s made up.

So now what? What do I do? I’m in a situation I could never have hoped to be in and there are so many ways I can fuck up.

He’s there. Still hard.

_Why is he still hard? Isn’t that supposed to go away after a while?_

Every small movement either of us makes presses us together in different ways. I’m now hyper-aware of him. No hope of falling asleep as long as he’s there. I feel a tickle between my legs and I stop breathing for a few seconds. Then, I squirm. I try to keep it small, subtle. I really don’t want him to notice. This is not flattering at all. I want to show him that I respect him.

I hear him take a deep breath and the length of him twitches.

I’m mortified. He can smell me, clearly.

_Oh god, no._

I curl myself up, pull up my legs and try to move away from him a bit. His arm holds me where I am though.

“You smell of the Fade," his words are deep, a lower register than I’ve heard before. I can feel them vibrate in his chest where it presses against my back. “And other things.”

“I’m sorry.” I say again. My words are barely even a whisper.

“Again, I will say that it was never my intention to be inappropriate, or to take advantage of you.” His arm tightens further and pulls me against him. It’s almost painful now.

I gasp and my breathing quickens. More moisture collects between my legs. I rub my thighs together, trying to rid myself of that tickle.

I realise again that something about my body is different, off. But I can’t focus on that now.

“I have not breathed in the scent of the Fade physically for a long, long time," he says. “Forgive me, I am having trouble restraining myself.”

“Don’t,” I say, then hasten to add. “Don’t restrain yourself.”

He shudders and presses his face into my neck. I can feel him breathing in and he trembles again. Then his lips are on the back of my neck and his teeth graze my skin.

I gasp and shiver.

I reach and feel for his hand. It’s pressed into the skin of my stomach and I move it. Down, down until the tips of his fingers brush more sensitive parts of me.

I’m trembling now. I have no idea why. He groans into the skin of my neck and moves his hand lower on his own.

His fingers slide over me and then into the wetness pooling below. I shudder around them and my hips move involuntarily.

It’s been so long for me, so long since I’ve felt this. And it’s him. I struggle to remember why this is wrong, why I shouldn’t do this.

His fingers slide along me, stroking me, spreading the slick of me around. They brush the sensitive centre of me and I gasp. He rubs slow, delicate circles around it and then presses the tip of one finger against it. I’m panting now, gasping for air. Suddenly I’m too hot.

Then his hand moves lower and I feel his fingers reach down, parting me and sliding inside.

I can’t remember the last time I felt this wet, aching need, this build of pressure and heat in my stomach. His fingers undulate, in and out. I clutch his wrist and rock against his hand.

He’s panting now himself, breath uneven and shallow. It’s a beautiful, uncontrolled sound. One I could never have imagined. I love it, love the way his voice is deep and broken.

I reach over and behind me. I search for that long, hard length and find it.

He’s beautifully smooth and so warm, hard enough that I’m sure it must ache. I grip him in my fist and squeeze gently, then begin sliding my hand up and down as well as I can from this angle.

He shudders against my palm and gasps.

I lose myself in the feel of him between my legs and in my hand. I’m not sure how long we stay like that. But the pressure inside me grows and grows and I begin to ache for something more.

I roll over, moving his arm with me. I’m facing him now. I lift my leg and wrap it over his hip and bring myself as close as I can. He lets me take him in my hand and bring him to my opening. He’s thick and hard against me, but I’m so wet and open from his touch.

I work him into me, feeling the amazing, wonderful sensation of him stretching me wider. He twitches his hips, jerking himself a little deeper. There’s a bit of pain, sharp and tearing. But it passes. I realise what it must be and a moment of mild hysteria grips me. I haven’t been a virgin in years. Then the pain fades away and I can focus on the feeling. I sigh, a long languorous breath at how perfect he feels, how hard and hot and long.

Then he holds me in his arms and rolls us both over. I almost shatter at the feeling of his weight settling on me, at feeling him sliding in deeper. My eyes roll back at the sensation.

His breath is so warm against my chest as he rests like that.

“I will not be able to hold back for long," he says, voice deep and broken with need. I can feel the hunger in him, that barely restrained passion I’d always been aware of. He needs this. I know that with absolute certainty. Needs this so utterly and completely that every last shred of doubt in me vanishes.

“Take me," I breathe.

He tenses for a second, then sighs. He fits himself around me, finds a position under the blanket he likes. Then he pulls out in a slow, even movement, until the tip of him is just inside my entrance. Then he pushes back inside with one firm, sudden thrust.

I make a sound, somewhere between a gasp and a scream, and wrap my legs around his hips.

He does it again, drawing out and then slamming back home. And again. Each time it’s a little bit faster, a bit harder.

The sound of skin on skin is loud. His panting breaths cover me with warm air and he slides one hand up to cover my breast. His fingers find my nipple and squeeze. I cry out again. I’m so sensitive, and it feels so good.

I begin to lose the sense of each individual movement, feeling the warmth pool and collect inside. I’m moving with him now, trying to meet each thrust. My arms wrap around his shoulders, his neck. I spread my fingers up and over the back of his head and bring my thumb up to brush against one pointed ear. He makes a beautiful sound then, a growling gasping sound and I do it again.

His pace intensifies. He’s pushing into me faster, with an almost punishing force. I’m so close now, I can feel it building, cresting.

His other hand moves down and he presses his thumb to my centre. It's enough, too much, and I come, shuddering and twitching around him. I can feel myself clench down on him as he continues to move. He growls again, deeper still and I feel that sensation I’d almost forgotten. That swelling pulse as he comes inside me. I can feel tears on my cheeks. I’m crying. It’s so good, so good. And it’s him.

“Solas.” I breathe.

He shudders and I clutch him, trying to keep him where he is for as long as I can. He rests his weight on me and I love the feeling of it.

Then he slips out. I sigh at the loss and feel a hot, sliding sensation as his seed flows out after him.

He twists and rolls us back to lying on our sides. I keep my limbs wrapped around him. I don’t want to move yet, to let him go. I’m still shuddering with the aftershocks of my orgasm. I want this feeling to last as long as it can.

His hand rubs my thigh, slow lazy up and down movements. Our breathing slows as we come down from it. Everything is so perfect. So wonderful and real and better than anything I’d ever imagined.

We rest for a bit, neither of us speaking.

“You were a virgin,” he says after a time.

I remember that pain I felt. I don’t understand it.

“No,” I say. “I’m not. I wasn’t. I don’t know why…”

“A question for another time then.” He stills and presses his fingers into my skin. “There is a more pressing one.”

I hear something in his voice which puts me a little on edge. I pull my legs down so that they’re not wrapped around him anymore but keep my arms where they are.

“What question?” I ask.

I can feel him looking at me. It’s an almost physical sensation, a weight pressing into me. I’m suddenly aware for the first time, really aware, of who he is. Not just Solas, but the other side of him.

“Tell me how, exactly, you know my name.” He says.

_Oh shit._


	2. To sleep perchance to dream

He catches me completely by surprise and I can’t for the life of me think of what to say. There goes the possibility of pretending ignorance.

My mind scurries about, trying to come up with some excuse. Some plausible reason for why the hell I know his name.

_ Fuck it. _

I don’t want the stress of trying to deceive him. Lying to him about who I am and who he is. I don’t want it.

What does it matter anyway? Either way, I’m in an impossible situation. I know enough about Solas to know that I trust him. Sure, it’s probably a stupid thing to do, but what’s the point in hiding anything? I don’t know where I am, how I got here, nothing. So far he’d saved me and then given me the best sex of my life. Not a bad record.

“I know a lot more than that,” I say. “But to be able to explain, I need to ask you some questions too.”

He shifts and I feel him tense and relax. I run my fingers along the back of his neck, stroking, soothing. I can’t get enough of touching him. He’s so  _ real.  _ His skin is warm and smooth, his chest rises and falls with each breath and I can feel his pulse under my fingertips.  _ Real. _

I have a sudden strange urge I can’t explain, but I give into it anyway. I lean forward and lick and nibble along his jaw. He allows it, although I’m not sure why. But he seems to like it. He presses his nose against my hair and inhales deeply. I do the same and breathe in the scent of him.

I can smell us, smell our sex, but there’s also the smell of him, his skin and sweat. That strange, wild something I have trouble identifying.

“Ask,” he says finally. “But then you  _ will _ explain yourself.”

“My first question may tell you many things and raise yet more questions." I say.

There’s one question I  _ need _ to ask. Something I have to know, so that I can work out what’s going on.

“Ask.” he says again.

I take a breath.  _ All or nothing. _

“How long has it been since you awoke from uthenera?”

He stiffens completely and crushes me in a fierce grip. His reaction isn't unexpected. I know what my question told him, but I have a very strong feeling that his answer will explain a lot.

His breathing is harsh now, but he forces himself to relax, to ease his hold on me. I wait. There’s nothing much else I can do. It’s his move now.

“Roughly half a year,” he finally says.

And the world vanishes out from under me.

My mind is reeling. What? How?

“Half a year...” I repeat.

It answers almost every question that matters. Half a year  _ before _ the Temple of Sacred Ashes is destroyed. Half a year before the events I know even begin.

“Explain everything, now,” Solas says.

“I have one more question,” I say. “And please believe me, it’s vital to you. I’m not going anywhere, I’ll tell you everything you need to know. But please, one more question.”

He nods, a short sharp jerk of his head.

“Where is your orb?”

His breath leaves him in a long, drawn-out hiss. This is a question liable to get me killed, if anything is, but dear fucking  _ god _ the answer means so much.

“I have it.” His voice is low and dangerous now. So threatening I can almost hear the snarl in it.

“Oh, fuck.” I breathe and squeeze my eyes shut.

I can stop it. It can all be different if I can get him to believe me. If I can get him to agree not to give it to Corypheus…

“I don’t know where to start,” I tell him. I’m feeling helpless now, overwhelmed. I don’t know what to do, where or how to begin to tell him what I know.

“How do you know me, how do you have knowledge  _ no other being _ has, or should have?” He asks.

“Because I’ve watched you. It’s something like when you watch a memory in the Fade, but different. And it’s not of the past, it’s of the future.”

“The future...” He seems stunned now. Not quite as tense, as deadly. “Explain.”

“I’m not sure that I can, not any more than that. Listen to me, please, I’m not… from this world. Not even from the Fade. I’ve watched things happen from the outside, in a way you’d have trouble understanding.

“You know who I am?” He says. It’s not a question.

“Yes, but please understand, it doesn’t mean to me what it would to anyone from  _ this _ world.”

“What does it  _ mean _ to you, then?”

I wince. All or nothing.

“Have you… have you ever loved something from afar, knowing it could never be yours, but longing for it all the same?” I ask.

He’s still for a long time. I don’t look at him, I keep my eyes shut. Then he sighs.

“Yes,” he says.

I breathe out. “Then you know what it means to me,” I tell him.

My stomach seems to have slipped out of me and my chest is full of small, fluttering things. I have no real clue what I’m doing, why I’m telling him this. I want him to believe me. It seems like a way to reach him. If I can convince him of how I feel about him, maybe he’ll be more inclined to believe that I want to help him.

Because god fucking dammit do I want to help him.

“I see,” he says. “That somewhat explains what just occurred between us.”

He’s relaxed again. Confident and in control. He sounds exactly like the Solas I remember. Calm, intelligent, precise. I have the sudden urge to lean forward and nibble his jaw again, kiss his face. I don’t know what the hell this is. It’s not something I’ve ever wanted to do before. Not that I haven’t imagined kissing every inch of him, but not like this.

I'm leaning forward again, and for a wonder, he lets me. I run my tongue along his jaw, down to his chin. I pause to nibble along his jawline, scraping my teeth lightly over his skin. I leave kisses in a trail after my teeth. Then I move higher, feeling the small indent in as my lips brush over his chin. I press my mouth to his lips but but don’t linger there. I’m kissing his face, his cheeks and lips and chin. Some strange anxiety inside me eases a bit as I do this. And he  _ lets _ me do it.

When I’m done I press my nose into the hollow of his neck and inhale. I feel better somehow, as though I’ve just shown him something important. I have no idea what though.

This is strange, my behaviour, the situation, all of it. I mean, the conversation we’re having is serious, deadly serious. Literal fate of the world serious but I can’t bring myself to move away. I want to stay exactly like this. What’s even stranger is that Solas, the ever distant and reserved Solas, is willing to let me stay as I am. 

“Why did you ask where  _ my orb _ is?”

I answer into his neck. “Because by trying to unlock it, you cause nearly two years worth of suffering and hardship. Both for yourself and others. Only to end up with it in pieces anyway.”

“Tell me everything," he says.

“Can’t I show you instead? Can’t you enter my dreams and look? It would be much easier to see and judge for yourself.”

“You would let me inside your dreams, willingly, with no reservations?” He asks

I shrug. “I have no sense of self in this world to hold on to, to feel worried about sharing. I’m not from here. Nothing feels right to me yet, apart from you. My body feels strange but I don’t understand why. This whole world doesn’t quite feel real to me. For all I know it’s you and me and this cave and nothing else at all. Yes, you can rummage through my dreams if it will help.” I lick the hollow of his throat and press a kiss to his neck. “Either way, you’ve been in my dreams for a long time already.” 

“Your body feels strange?” He asks. It seems like an odd part of my speech to focus on. “And you claim you were not a virgin before our joining, and yet there is obvious evidence that you were…”

He brushes his fingers along the inside of my thigh and brings them up. I shiver at the touch. I can’t see them, but he brings them close to my nose. I can smell the coppery, metallic scent of my own blood on his fingers. Not much mind you, but it’s there.

I remember the pain and discomfort of my first time, my inexperience. My boyfriend’s inexperience. It had been so far from this that the difference was almost absurd.

“I don’t understand,” I say. “I really have had sex before.”

Then there’s a small ball of pale light floating above us. I jump and gasp. Fuck, that is going to take some getting used to.

“Describe yourself to me,” Solas says.

“What? What do you mean?”

“Tell me what you look like.”

I stare at him. He can  _ see _ me so he shouldn’t need me to tell him. But it's also because this is my first clear sight of him and he’s so damned  _ beautiful. _

He waits.

“Alright… I uh, have dark-blonde hair. I’m pale-ish. I have hazel eyes…” I stop, because he’s grinning at me and it’s quite something to see. I mean, you don’t ever get to see him grin, just smile.

“Wrong on two counts.” He says. “You have black hair, very pale, freckled skin and bright blue eyes.”

“What?” I ask. Then I look down.

Not only am I more pale than I should be, but I’m more slender as well. I stare and stare and eventually realise where I’ve seen this body shape before. My arms are shaking as I reach up and feel at my ear. I trace my finger from the almost non-existent earlobe all the way up to the pointed tip.

“Oh,” I say. “Oh.”

I’m shaking. I can’t stop. My teeth are chattering. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me closer so that I’m pressed against his chest. I barely notice.

“I.. I.. I’m s-s-s-sor-ry-ry.” I manage to get out.

And for the first time I notice something else. There’s a kind of echo under or around my words. It’s like I can hear two things at the same time. I hear myself speaking English, but I also hear two words which are familiar, if broken up by my chattering teeth. “ _ I-i-i-ir ab-abe-la-las _ ”

It’s too much. Really, just too fucking much. I start crying and the tears won’t stop.

Daydream about being an elf all you fucking like, it’s another thing entirely to wake up in a different body from the one you were born with.

Solas is murmuring to me, soft words which I can’t make out. I squeeze my eyes shut and sob into his chest.

I should be talking to him, telling him things he needs to know. How is he being so patient with me? Why is he stroking my hair and trying his best to soothe me when I must have scared the shit out of him? I just told him his orb would end up destroyed.

This only makes me cry harder. I feel so useless.

I cry and cry and eventually drift down into hazy darkness. I feel hollow, empty. But at the same time, so heavy I can't imagine ever moving.

* * *

It’s still and peaceful for a time. Then, I’m plucked out of it and drawn somewhere else.

Everything is blinding and bright. Colours whirl around me. White, silver, blue, green and that aching blue of the sun shining through thick ice. They settle and my vision comes into focus. I have my first good look at where I am and I gasp.

Towering, glittering spires of ice surround me. It forms intricate patterns that etch every surface. Spikes and whorls and beautiful geometric designs are everywhere. I stare for a while and begin to work out that some of the planes and angles don’t make sense. What was that phrase Lovecraft enjoyed using? Non-euclidean geometry? It looked like an M.C. Escher drawing made of ice.

Ah. I’m in the Fade. Fan-fucking-tastic.

I’m not cold, although I feel like I should be. I look down and I’m still not in my own body. Even here. And I’m still naked. I sigh and try and fix my mind on me wearing some winter-appropriate clothing. Jeans, boots and a jacket appear on me and I almost fall over in surprise.

“Well done,” he says.

He’s standing near me and I have no idea how long he’s been there.

He’s dressed, well, it’s not an outfit I’ve seen yet. The closest to it would be the murals I saw of him later. The self-portrait ones. Robes of smooth, beautifully cut fabric. Flowing, elegant and comfortable, yet still somehow humble. As though they were deliberately simple in design. All greens and golds and browns.

I look down at my own clothing and sigh. It's comically plain by comparison.

Well, I’m not changing it now.

A thought makes me stiffen. “Wait, should I have been able to do that at all?” I ask Solas.

He chuckles. “The people of this age cripple themselves with pointless rules regarding the Fade. It is what you make of it, to a certain extent.”

“Hmm,” I say. “So, this  _ is _ the Fade then, we’re not uh, inside my dreams or yours?”

“Yes, this is the Fade.”

I'm feeling vulnerable. Still rattled. I have a very strong desire to curl up somewhere soft and safe.

I think very hard about a nice, comfortable, overstuffed couch. And one obligingly appears next to me, complete with fluffy woolen blanket.

I fling myself on to it and draw my legs up, then wrap the blanket around myself. It helps. I feel a bit better. I have a sudden craving for some hot chocolate… and I’m holding a mug. It gives off a delicious rich, sugary smell. There are even some partially melted marshmallows floating on top.

I take an experimental sip and smile. It tastes pretty much like the best hot chocolate I can remember ever having. And I realise that’s exactly what it is. Even the mug is the same. It’s a memory.

Oh well, what else is nostalgia for?

“That smells delightful,” Solas says. He’s walked up to me and appears to be examining the couch.

“Would you… like some?” I ask. This is getting a little weird again. Mostly because it's such a normal thing. And anything to do with Solas is far from normal.

“I am always interested in new experiences, especially in the Fade,” he says. “So, yes, please, I would very much like to try that beverage.”

I concentrate on him holding a copy of the mug in my hands. And he is. He smiles and sits next to me on the couch.

“You’re being very… nice,” I say.

He sips and his eyebrows rise in clear enjoyment. Then he looks at me and there’s a hint of something in his face. Sadness, or regret. I’m not sure which.

“How do you expect me to behave? Am I not courteous in this future of yours?”

I think back to everything I’ve seen of him.

“You are always extremely courteous,” I say. “But you’re not always nice.”

He nods and stares down into his mug. “Ah, yes. Being nice is sometimes a luxury we cannot always afford.” He looks back up at me. “How are you feeling?”

“Better, I think," I reply.

And I do feel a little better. The comfort of something as mundane as a couch and a mug of hot chocolate is not to be underestimated.

“I apologise for the way I handled that,” he says. “I should perhaps have been more delicate in how I made you aware of it.”

I sigh and feel my mind slipping into a different setting. I’d always been quite good at matching the speech patterns and inflections of the people around me. This is Solas I’m talking to. And I’m using Elvhen when I do so. Who knows what my rather casual English is translating into when I speak.

“No, I apologise for the immature way I have behaved since I woke,” I tell him. “I am somewhat overwhelmed by the situation, but you deserve better from me.”

He raises an eyebrow at me over the rim of his mug. “Did you consciously switch to the High form of Elvhen?” He asks. 

“It's not about whether I switched. It is that I'm not speaking Elvhen at all, or at least, that I am speaking in two languages at once.”

“Fascinating,” he says. “Do you hear yourself speaking in tandem, or are you simply aware that you are doing so?”

I pause. I’m not sure of the answer.

“When I first spoke to you, I thought were were both speaking my language. Although now that I consider it, that would be strange. It was only after I found out that I am now, ah... an elf, that I realised this was not the case.”

“Then I take it that you were not always an elf, but something else instead?”

I nod.

He looks away, out at the Fade around us. It's silent for a while as we both consider this.

“How much of Elvhenan do you know?” He finally asks me.

“It depends on what you mean by that. I know very little in general, but I have knowledge of a few specific things.”

“Are you aware that spirits could take on a solid form? That they could become physical and alive, as we both are now?” Solas asks.

“Yes, I am aware of that.” I decide to confirm a long-held suspicion of mine. “Isn’t that what you did?” I ask.

He smiles at me. “Yes, although it was a very, very long time ago.”

Oh, well then. That’s one to mark off the list. Solas is indeed like Cole, which is why he seemed to adopt the spirit-boy when he appeared.

Or is going to appear. Will appear? Oh god dammit, time travel nonsense. Tense is going to be an issue.

“But what has that to do with me?” I ask.

“Everything. Or so I believe.” He cocks his head at me. “You do not have to change your speech patterns to converse with me. While I do enjoy this form of my language, I would not require you to speak it.”

“Does it sound strange?” I ask. Now I’m a little embarrassed.

“Hmm, no,” he replies. “And that is perhaps what  _ makes _ it sound strange. Your inflection, pronunciation and accent are all perfect. There are very few beings in the Unchanging World who can speak High Elvhen.”

“But not in the Fade,” I say. “When you talk to Wisdom, surely you use this version of Elvhen. Am I wrong?”

He turns to look at me. Again there is that hint of danger about him. Unease and threat. I realise I'd referred to his relationship with one of his closest friends too casually. As if I’d known them both for years. I wince.

I hurry to say, “I apologise. I should learn to watch my tongue." Then I run my eyes and hunch deeper under the blanket. "Please try to understand. I know things about you that no one else should, yes but this knowledge is long-held and familiar to me. I’m sure it’s strange and unsettling for you.”

He sighs and I realise that his mug has vanished into the Fade. “I am beginning to see that. And yes, it is somewhat unsettling.”

I finish my own drink and think about the mug being gone. And it is. I fidget with the blanket and then pull up my knees and hug them. When I move I can feel the differences in this body. It’s weight and balance aren't the same. How it moves and fits together is different. I hold up my hand and look at it.

The fingers are long and tapering. The entire hand is slender and delicate. There are no marks or scars at all. The skin is smooth and pale with a spattering of freckles.

I have a sudden idea and concentrate.

A full-length mirror appears in front of me. I stare into it and have a another moment of shock. Although there is also recognition. I know that face. It’s one I’ve seen before, one I’d chosen for another person in Thedas.

I stand and allow the blanket to fall away from me. I think about my clothing vanishing and I’m naked again. I can see it all now. The body is slender in ways that would be close to impossible for a human. The bone structure is different as well. Most noticeably the face, around the bridge of the nose and eyes. And of course, the  _ ears. _

I can’t think of it as  _ my _ body. Not yet. I’m not sure if I ever will. Although, it has to happen at some point, realistically.

Which of course makes me think of the future. And what is and isn’t possible, what I could stop from happening.

“Solas,” I say, deliberately using his name for the first time. I turn to him and use the other one for good measure. “Fen’Harel. How do I show you what I’ve seen?”

He’s been watching me, that’s clear. He sighs and there’s a small, tight smile on his lips. “You remind me increasingly of a young, newly physical spirit. You may be from another world originally, but it is clear you spent some time in the Fade. And it is also clear that you came into being as I did.”

What? Oh… oh wait.

As he did? As in, we were ‘born’ in the same way? Wait, does that mean what I think it means? Echoes of his oh so annoying favourite phrase play themselves out in my head. ‘ _ My people’. _

I swallow. “And what does that make me... to you?” I ask. All my saliva seems to have vanished as I try to swallow. Then there’s a glass of water in my hand. I take a sip and the memory of refreshment helps.

His look is unreadable now. That blank absence of expression that usually fills me with unease. It falls away as he smiles up at me.

“You may not have started as such, but you are Elvhen now.”

I slump back onto the couch and stare at the nearest, oddly angled plane of ice above us. I’m filled with so many mixed emotions I have no idea where to start unraveling them.

“That means a great deal to you, does it not?” Solas asks me, his voice soft.

“Yes,” I whisper. “Because of what it means to  _ you. _ ”

He takes my hand and turns me around to face him. I know this expression. It’s a mixture of open delight and pained longing. It’s almost enough to break my heart.

“You are a wonderful puzzle, my friend. Although, it is, perhaps,  time for me to know your name. We have been intimate enough to at least be on a first name basis.”

Oh smooth, smooth bastard.

But, that is a bit of a problem. A name. Should give him the one I chose to use in this world? The thought of actually hearing him use the name I chose and not the Dalish clan name is wonderful. What difference can it make either way?

“Lyrial,” I tell him.

“Lyrial.” he says after me. “Not, I suspect, the name you were originally given. It has too much of the sound of Elvhen in it. One you chose?”

Hearing him say it fills me with warmth and makes my stomach flutter.

“Yes, one I chose.”

He nods at me, accepting this. 

“Very well. Now, for the reason we are here.” He sweeps an arm out. “You have done well so far at controlling the Fade. It responds to you with eagerness. This is good.”

He gestures to the air in front of us. Then we’re looking out through something like a window at a completely different scene. It’s a small clearing in a forest of towering, ancient trees. In the centre is a pool of water gleaming like blue-green glass. A statue of a howling wolf stands across from it, and the image of it is perfectly reflected in the pool. It’s a beautiful, tranquil scene. It fills me with a sense of deep sorrow and I look at Solas, somehow certain that the emotion is not my own, but  _ his. _

The window fades away, taking the image with it. Although the sorrow remains.

“Conjuring a vision is not altogether different from realising a memory. You have but to focus on it, allow yourself to dwell on the image. Do not think too hard on it, but allow it to flow out of you.”

“Weren't you going to look into my dreams?” I ask him.

“It is not necessary,” he replies. “This will be easier for both of us.”

“Alright... may I practice first or should I attempt to show you one that’s relevant immediately?”

“Practice first. Summon a memory that is close to you.”

One that's close to me? Considering where we are, who I’m sitting with, the memories that spring to mind are ones of this world. I decide to start with a simple one, something that won’t be too confusing.

Colour flickers in the air before us and resolves into a picture. Sound accompanies the picture. The soft soughing of a persistent wind. The murmuring of voices. A dog barking, someone shouting, voices talking about something nearby. It’s a snowy space next to a wooden house. Solas stands before it, the image of him I know by heart. He speaks with someone who’s hard to see. They’re humanoid and female, maybe elven, but their features are impossible to make out. Is this how my mind makes sense of a possible Lavellan?

They’re talking about the Fade of course. Discussing Solas’ supposed journeys and wanderings in search of ancient memories to experience.

Emotions seem to fill me while I watch the memory. I can almost feel them coming from the images before us. Like heat from a fire. There’s anticipation, excitement and heavy nostalgia filling me. Very familiar emotions, ones I experience almost every time I witness this.

I look at the ‘real’ Solas next to me. His attention is fixed on the scene before us. He sits forward on the edge of the couch and his body is tense. After a few minutes I let the memory vanish back into the Fade.

“Very well done,” he says. “And a good example of what is to come, I think.”

I’m not very sure how I feel about what I just did. The Fade is a tricky thing to wrap your head around and seems to vary in definition. I base my own understanding of it on Solas' own explanations of it. But I’m pretty damned sure you’re not supposed to be able to wave your hand and change it.

In the memories of my first experience of this world, the Harrowing of the Circle mage, it was nothing like this. Everything felt solid and stayed the same. It seemed as though the Fade was another plane that had similar rules to the waking world.

Of course, things change. Ideas change. Especially ideas about something that in and of itself has no fixed definition. It seems as though the Fade behaves the way you expect it to behave. I expect it to be mutable and it is.

Maybe it helps that there’s still a heavy feeling of unreality about everything. I never considered it real to begin with, so my lack of preconceptions make it easier to do what I like.

Either way, I seem to be able to effect the Fade in ways that are, without a doubt, magical.

_ Fuck _ .

“What, uh… what would you like to see next?” I ask him.

He’s watching me. There’s interest and frank appraisal on his face. It’s like he’s trying to figure me out, to wrap his head around what I am.

_ Good luck with that! I wish I knew myself. _

“Show me the moment my orb is destroyed,” he says and turns back to regard the open air before us.

I’m shocked. What? He wants to see  _ that? Already? Shit. _

There’s so much between that moment and now. So much he’ll miss, context he doesn't have. But in the end it’s the most relevant moment. It’s what will make or break my attempt to persuade him.

Still, it’s not an easy thing. I hate the scene for what it represents. The defeat of Corypheus is not at all the important thing for me. It’s what happens after.

I close my eyes and think, try to figure out a good place to start.

_ That will do _ .

I open them and look at the scene taking shape in the air. The setting is bathed in lurid green light. A chaotic mess of broken stone and masonry litters the area. Two beings stand facing each other, locked in a battle of wills. One is tall, gaunt, monstrous. Jagged spikes of red jut from his skin and tattered leather robes hang from his emaciated frame.

The other is a young elven woman, features obscured, who stands before the creature and seems outmatched. She holds her arm up before her, bright green light blazing from the palm. The scene is so much more quiet than I thought it would be. There are noises of strain from each figure. Groans of pain or effort. I can see sweat bead her skin.

Then, with a cry of rage, the tall monstrous one loses his fight. The orb he’d gripped in one over-sized, clawed hand flies through the air and lands on the Inquisitor’s palm. Corypheus howls in rage and dismay.

“You wanted to enter the Fade so badly,” the Inquisitor spits. “Well, here’s your chance.” She points the orb at Corypheus and green light envelops him. He barely has a chance to scream before he’s gone, destroyed or banished to the Fade.

The Inquisitor pants for a moment, then staggers forward. She catches herself then looks upwards. The swirling glow of the Breach paints her in sickly green. She takes a deep, shuddering breath, then holds the orb above her head.

Her whole body stiffens and the Anchor flares. The glow of the mark merges with the glow surrounding the orb. A pillar of energy erupts from both straight up. It hits the Breach and there’s a silent detonation. I can almost feel the force of it through the vision.

The Breach seems to ripple and pulse. It’s writhes across the sky and for a moment it seems as though it will persist. Then, with a last shudder of green brilliance, it closes.

Everything around the Inquisitor shifts as the world appears to fall. Then, she’s on the ground. She rises, clearly in pain, and sees Solas kneeling on the ground not far from her.

He’s hunched over as though in agony. She staggers towards him, concerned. She circles him so that she can see what’s wrong.

In his hands are the broken, blackened pieces of the orb.

My own eyes fall on his face and don’t move. Here it is, the reason this memory is so painful.

His face is open and desolate. There’s so much naked pain and sorrow there that I feel it pour from the vision and fill me. There are tears on my cheeks but I don’t move to rub them away.

“It was not supposed to be this way.” the Solas in my vision says. He’s so lost, so empty.

“Solas, I’m sorry…” The Inquisitor says.

“It is not your fault.” He lets the pieces of his orb fall to the snowy ground and stands up. “I want you to know that what we had was real.”

The Inquisitor looks at him, pain and confusion in her eyes.

A voice shouts from a short distance away, calling for her. She moves towards it, relief at the familiar voice of the Seeker spurring her. Then she stops and looks back.

Solas is gone.

I stop it there. That’s more than enough.

I press my face into my knees. It’s always bad, this part. But now it feels worse, more  _ real _ because I’m here. Because he’s sitting right next to me.

I can’t look at him. I’m afraid to see his face, to hear his next words. But it’s so important. If this isn’t enough to convince him not to go through with his plans, then I’m not sure what will be.

“I… think I understand,” he says.

I raise my head and turn to face Solas.

He’s white as a sheet. His hands grip the backs of his knees and I can see them shaking from strain. He must believe that what he’s just seen is real. That it would happen. He must also be feeling something similar to what his future self felt.

“Who was she?” He asks.

“Someone you loved,” I say with difficulty. “Someone you left. Someone who was able to save the world despite that.”

He nods as though this is enough. How can it be? I’m being vague, I know that. But how can I sit here and explain it all to him? Where would I even begin?

I lie back and rest my head on the side of the couch. I’m feeling very, very empty now. It’s that feeling you have when you finish crying while you’re grieving. The hollow blank emptiness that seems to drain the life from you and leave you listless.

He stands up and walks away. I open my eyes to see what he’s doing. He keeps his hands clasped behind his back in the posture I know so well. Then the Fade all around us flickers and changes.

We’re  _ inside _ the memory I just played out. The image of Solas is kneeling on the ground, holding the pieces of his orb. Lavellan is close by, frozen in the act of standing.

The Solas with me walks over to the reflection of himself and circles it. Then, he reaches down and picks up the pieces of the orb. He takes them from the fingers of his double and holds them up, examining them.

_ What the fuck? _

This is not what I expected. Nope. And it’s weird as all hell.

I stand up and take a step towards the two of them. I’m  _ inside _ the memory, the vision I’d summoned. I look around. I can see everything with perfect clarity. The stitches on Lavellan’s clothing. The grime and blood covering her. I turn and look at the Solas on the ground. He’s dressed in robes that are a mixture of his armour as Fen’Harel and his elven apostate disguise. He’s kneeling now, still clutching at something which is no longer there.

I walk towards the image, walk around it so that I can see his face.

Then, I drop to my knees on the ground.

I reach out, helpless to do anything else, and rest my hand on his cheek. His skin is warm and there's a jolt of pain, like something heavy and hard punched a hole in my chest.

The skin beneath my hand twitches and his head moves. Slowly, his face tilts up and his eyes fall on me. Then, he’s  _ looking  _ at me.

“Vhenan,” he says.


	3. The shadow of a dream

I don’t move, don’t breathe. The whole of the Fade seems to still around me.

“Impossible,” I hear myself say.

“Not… necessarily,” he says.

His expression is still haggard, still filled with an abyss of sadness and loss. But as he looks at me, something seems to bring a spark of light to his eyes. His lips twist into the ghost of a smile.

It brings another bolt of pain lancing into my heart.

“Impossible,” I repeat.

I hear movement nearby. I look up. The other Solas, the current Solas, is watching both of us. He seems surprised but not alarmed. “Many things are possible in the Fade,” he says. “Especially when intense emotion is brought to bear.”

“But, you don’t know me,” I whisper. “You can’t know me. You know  _ her _ , not me.”

I still can’t move. I can’t look away from his face.

“You are the other half of her. Without you, she would not exist,” the dream Solas says.

I want to shake my head, deny what he’s saying. But I can’t. He’s right, in a very real way. Events are different for everyone. The Inquisitor changes, even if most of the story does not. This Inquisitor, the one frozen in a crouch near us, is me in many ways. My choices shaped her and her world. My choices brought her together with Solas. How much of her was me? How much of me was in her? Her personality, her opinions, her reasons for doing anything of import.

“I don’t understand,” my voice is barely above a whisper. “How can this be happening? How can any of this be happening?”

I drop my head into my hands and feel myself begin to shake. It’s too much. Too much.

“Vhenan,” he says again.

It makes me look up, look into his eyes. That word. The word I love hearing every single time.

He’s still smiling at me, but he hasn’t moved otherwise. His smile is broader now, softer.

“I do not know why you are here, why either of us are here. But it must be for a reason,” the dream Solas says.

I make a sound which could pass for a short laugh. “A reason?” I ask. “You’ve never struck me as someone who believes in destiny.”

“Destiny has little to do with this situation,” says the current Solas.

I look up at him. He’s still holding the broken orb and he’s now standing equidistant between the two of us on the ground.

“What does?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “That, I cannot say. This is an unusual occurrence, to say the least.”

“You have the chance to stop this,” the dream Solas says. “You both do. You can prevent this, and all that is to come, from happening.”

“That is obvious,” Current Solas says. “I will certainly avoid this outcome at any cost.” He lets the broken orb fall from his hands and the pieces vanish before they touch the ground.

Dream Solas nods and sighs. He flickers, as though maintaining his own existence has become difficult. Then, he reaches out and touches my face. He cups my cheek in his hand and I lean into the touch.

“Do what you know best,” he says. “I trust you. Ar lath ma, vhenan.”

Then his form breaks apart into wisps of colour and light. They swirl around me like smoke before dissipating into the Fade.

The Fade changes around me and I’m kneeling on a plane of vibrant blue ice. My hand is on my cheek, where his was, and I’m sobbing.

I flee.

The Fade drops away and I’m falling into darkness. The situation is somehow familiar and brings with it a brief sense of panic and regret. Then, I’m wrapped up in warm, soft blackness and everything just... goes away.

* * *

My eyes open. As my mind comes fully awake I’m gripped by a keen sense of loss.

There are arms around me. Before sleep, before the Fade, I would have snuggled into those arms. Now, it feels like a betrayal. Which makes no sense. But I can't ignore the feeling.

I edge away, try to get out from under his arms. But the bed, or bedroll we’re on is too narrow. There’s nowhere else for me to go, no room to move. I content myself with rolling over so that my back is to him again then hug myself.

He’s still sleeping. His breathing is regular, even.

It’s still  _ Solas _ but he’s not the same. Not the one who’d just told me he loved me before vanishing into nothing. Me. He told me he loved  _ me _ . Not Lavellan.  _ Me. _

I lie awake for a while, try to think.

My situation has became even stranger and far more confusing.

The Fade, the fucking  _ Fade _ . How had that happened? Why?

Solas lies against me. I want to drape myself across his body, bury my face in his chest and take comfort in the feel of him.  _ But I can’t, can I? _

He knows how I feel about him now. Knows without any doubt. He’d just met me though. We’d been in each other’s company for, what, a day? Counting the hours we’d been asleep.

And now he knows that a version of himself loves, loved, will love me back. But that version might never even exist. I’d just made damned sure he wouldn’t be repeating his alternate self’s mistakes.

_ Fuck. If I’m intimate with him again, it’ll be wrong, won’t it? It’ll be like he’s taking advantage of me, of my feelings. Or like I’m taking advantage of him, unfairly dumping my feelings onto him when he’s barely had a chance to get to know me. _

And then there’s that feeling of betrayal. As though, by sleeping with this version of him, I’d be cheating on that other version. Which didn’t even exist.

I wrestle with it all for what feels like hours.

Eventually I feel him stir. He stays completely still then, doesn’t move.

“Lyrial,” he says at last. “We should talk.”

“What about?” my voice is terse as I reply. I don’t want to have this conversation.

“The topic should be fairly obvious,” he says.

“No, actually, it isn’t,” I say. “There’s nothing fairly obvious about any of this.”

He’s quiet for a while, then says, “You have a point. Very well, I will be exact. We need to discuss your… relationship with me.” His hesitation at the world ‘relationship’ makes me wince. I’m not sure what to say.

“I don’t know what there is to discuss. Until recently, I would have told you there was no relationship. That there could never be.” I tell him.

“But you have feelings for… that version of myself.” It’s a statement.

“Yes,” I say.

“Hmm,” is his only reply.

I let the silence continue, venturing nothing more. This conversation is exhausting me.

“What will you do about this?” he asks.

I stiffen. “What?”

He sighs. “What will you do about this situation?”

“What the fuck  _ can _ I do, Solas?” I ask him. “Either way, it’s too strange. I have no experience with this. Oh sure, I’ve felt unrequited love before. I’m no stranger to that. But this situation is far removed from that.”

“He called you his heart…” he says softly, almost to himself.

I say nothing. What is there to say to that?

“Anyway, is this what we should be talking about?” I say after a minute, trying like crazy to change the subject. “What are you going to do? About your orb?”

“Do,” he repeats. “Not what I had intended to do. I believe, for now, it shall remain in my possession. Once we reach Tarasyl'an Te'las I will lock it away where no one but I will have access to it.”

“We’re going to Skyhold?” I say. Excitement flutters in my stomach. Skyhold. The place that felt like home in Thedas.

“Yes.” Solas says. “We are very nearly there in fact. If this storm had not risen so suddenly, and you had not appeared so unexpectedly, I would likely be there already.”

“Then, we are in the Frostback Mountains?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“Wait, you said ‘we’. You’re taking me with you?”

He laughs softly. “Would you prefer I left you here, naked and alone?”

I flush even though he can’t see my face. “No, of course not.”

“You are too new, too untested and untaught. It would be irresponsible of me to abandon you to your own devices, as you are. Even if you did not know what you know.”

“I’m not actually a child,” I tell him. “Even if my body is new. I can get by, more or less.”

But I’m thinking about the last thing he said. About what I know. Yeah, that’s it, that’s the problem. I know too much. I know who he is, some of his secrets. And that’s even before all the shit I know about the future of Thedas during the course of the next few years. He can’t leave me alone, not really. Even if I was as competent as he was, I’d be too much of a risk.

“Perhaps, while we wait for the storm to pass, we can begin your lessons,” he says.

I’m not really paying attention so it takes me a moment to realise what he’d said.

“Lessons? What are you talking about?” I ask.

“Your lessons on how to manipulate the Fade, to make use of it. In short, your lessons on how to use your magic.”

I roll completely over and face him. Shock allows me to ignore all my previous reservations about intimacy. I reach for him, grip his shoulders and pull him to face me.

“Say that again,” I say, excitement causing my breathing to race and my heartbeat to pound in my ears.

He’s clearly amused at my reaction. “Your magic,” he repeats.

“Magic…” I’m not even sure if I say it out loud.

“You have a strong connection to the Fade as a natural consequence of how you came into this world. It only stands to reason that you are a Mage as well.”

He’s smiling at me and there’s a sparkle in his stormy eyes.

_ Oh, oh no. _

I let him go and wiggle back away from him as much as I can.

Something breaks in his expression and his features smooth. There’s a flash of regret in his eyes and then he’s looking at me calmly.

I want to reach out, touch him, hold him. I can’t bear that look. How many times have I wanted to reach through to him, cross the void of unreality and hold him, comfort him? Am I now going to be the one who hurts him? How is it even possible for me to hurt him? Surely he hasn’t had time to form more than a passing familiarity with me?

“Solas, I…” I swallow. Squeeze my eyes shut then open them. He’s still looking at me. He doesn’t seem inclined to speak, only listen. “I want you so badly it hurts,” I whisper to him. “But it’s unfair to you. You don’t know me at all. I can’t expect you to bear the burden of my feelings for you.”

“Is love a burden?” he asks. “I suppose it can be. I felt the depth of both of your emotions, yours and his. How could I not? The strength of them shaped the Fade.”

He watches me, seems to be looking at something in me. He closes his eyes and inhales.

“You emotions are easy to read. I have felt them from the moment you awoke.”

“Felt them? What do you mean?”

“Emotion is tied to the Fade, and the Fade  _ is _ emotion. Purpose, intent and emotion. The will to make them manifest. Your emotions are clear for anyone to see. So long as that person possesses a conscious connection to the Fade.”

I know  _ that _ phrase well enough. What he seems to be talking about is something like Empathy, or being an Empath in the supernatural sense. Feeling other people’s emotions. And… projecting your own emotions for other people to feel?

He had said once that walking through this world was like walking through a world of Tranquil. And those poor, poor men and women have been severed from the Fade and lost all emotion and will in the process. If the reverse is what he’s talking about now, then maybe having that ‘conscious connection to the Fade’ means being able to feel and project emotion?

So he means it literally. He’s been able to feel my every emotion since the moment we were both conscious.

Oh. wow. Okay…

So he’d felt that bag of cats that had been my emotional state after waking him up. And… what about arousal? Did that count as an emotion? Had he felt that too?

“You are embarrassed,” he notes. “Do not be. You can no more help your emotions right now than you can help the colour of your eyes or hair.”

Oh  _ that _ makes it better. Being reminded that I don’t even have my own body anymore.

“Ugh, that’s great. Just wonderful. So even if I never touch you again you’ll be able to feel me near you like a lovesick puppy?”

He laughs.

It’s such a beautiful, open sound. Genuine amusement. Not the brief, breathy chuckle I’ve heard before, but an honest to goodness laugh. I swear I can see tears in his eyes. I watch him until he gets himself under control. It’s such a lovely sight. If I could capture it somehow, I’d replay it forever.

At last he wipes his eyes and says, “Considering the other side of your nature, that is a  _ very _ apt description of the situation.”

I’m not in the mood for riddles and allusions to things he knows but I don’t. I’m still too emotionally drained, too confused.

“What do you mean? Tell me, please. Spell it out. Pretend I really am a child.”

It seems he can’t resist making another joke at my expense. “Do you usually lick the face of someone you’re trying to reassure? If so, your world must be quite different from this one.”

My cheeks warm. 

_ Oh. That. _

“No,” I say.

His eyes sparkle again. “Have you not guessed? You know my name after all.”

What was he… ? oh.  _ Oh. _

“I’m a fucking  _ wolf _ ?” I ask.

“Well, I’m sure I don’t know what specific  _ variety _ of wolf you are. You could perhaps be that kind, yes. Anything is possible.”

He’s laughing at me again. Not out loud but I can see it in his eyes, in the twitch of his lips. He’s finding this  _ extremely  _ amusing.

I do my best to ignore him for a moment and press the palms of my hands into my eyes. I’m beginning to have that feeling of drowning again. It’s too much in too short a time. Even too many good things can be exhausting. And while everything that he’s told me is something I'm happy about, it still makes me uneasy. It's just  _ too much. _

“Does this fact make you uncomfortable?” Solas asks.

I remove my hands and look at him. He’s studying me in turn. I have the sense that he’s not seen something quite like me before. Which is absurd in a way, considering how long he’s lived.

_ Nope. No no no. Don’t think about that either. _

But I’m not sure if  _ he’s _ sure how to deal with me. I seem to have fallen into some strange category of ‘thing he should protect’ and ‘thing that’s terribly dangerous’.

“Isn't that something I should have a say in?” I ask in a rather hoarse voice.

He still seems to be amused, but I can tell he’s trying to react to my change in mood as well. I’ve heard the expression ‘emotional rollercoaster’ before, but I’ve never actually felt it. Right now, it feels like my emotions are changing lighting fast in ways that are impossible to predict. All in all, it’s draining and exhausting me again.

He looks away from me after a moment and brings a hand up to fiddle with the jawbone on it’s leather cords about his neck. I haven’t actually noticed it before. I’ve been far too distracted. I realise that the globe of light he’d summoned earlier is still there too, which is why I can see him at all.

There’s not much space to have any perspective. I’m pressed up against him, facing him now. He’s partially facing me with his torso twisted. There are millimeters separating us so that we’re not quite plastered to each other, but it’s damned close.

“Usually, when one learns to alter one’s shape, one can choose the form to assume,” he says. “However, there is another way for a being to have an alternate shape.”

I watch the hand caressing the jawbone pendant. And yes, he is caressing it. He’s running his fingers along the outer edge of the jaw lightly. Tenderly.

And now of course I have to wonder, not for the first time, what it is. What it means to him. Who the jawbone had belonged to and why he wears it.

“It can be innate, a fact of birth or, more likely, of coming into being,” he says. He turns his head and looks at me again. “As it is for me.”

I’m not sure I understand what he means. Is he telling me that someone can be born with two bodies? Well, alright, the concept is not unfamiliar. I’m no stranger to the idea of ‘were’ creatures. The idea of being born with the ability to change into something else is more or less plausible for me.

“So you’ve always been able to, uh... become a wolf?” I ask.

“No, I have always been wolf and elf both,” he says.

“Is there a difference?”

“Yes, there is.” Now his face twists into something like yearning. Of loss and longing for the thing lost. “I am entirely an elf and entirely a wolf. Both are integral parts of me, of my nature. I am the Dread Wolf not because I can take the shape of a wolf, but because I  _ am _ a wolf.”

“Duality,” I murmur. “Two things that are equally true but do not contradict each other despite that.”

“Just so.”

“You are implying that this is the same for me, too.”

“Yes,” Solas says.

Now there’s another current of emotion running through him. I think I’m beginning to be able to sense his feelings. It’s strange. I can  _ feel _ his emotions but they don’t touch me quite like my own do.

He’s hopeful.  _ Solas _ is hopeful.

It’s almost a contradiction in terms.

“You’re saying I’m now an elf and a wolf and I have no say in being either? I can only accept it?” I ask.

“You’re not actively unhappy about your situation, I can tell that much.”

“No,” I say. “It’s just… I’ve always been more of a cat person.”

He laughs again. This time it  _ is _ the short chuckle. It’s still a beautiful sound and melts my heart a bit.

“Then I suppose you will have to come to terms with the fact that you are now most definitely more of a ‘wolf person’.”

I rest my head on the thin padding that serves as a pillow and close my eyes.

“So, to make sure I have it all straight. I’m an elf, born from the Fade so probably a spirit before that. Also a wolf. Also a Mage. And I'm able to speak Elvhen for some reason. Who’s fallen into Thedas at the very feet of the man whose actions would have had horrible consequences. I’ve now dissuaded him from following his previous plans and we’re on our way to Skyhold. Is that everything?”

I know we’re both aware I’ve left out any mention of my feelings for him, or our earlier actions before the Fade.

Come to think of it, I’m still naked more or less pressed against Solas. Somehow I’ve been ignoring this fact in favour of everything  _ else _ that’s happening.

Blood rushes to my face and I turn my head to bury my cheeks.

_ I can’t. I can’t I can’t I can’t. _

It’s not fair to him. I don’t want to hurt him but I also don’t want to burden him with my feelings and expect him to deal with them.

“Lyrial, ignoring it will not make it vanish,” he says.

I feel his hand rest on the side of my head. His thumb brushes the outer edge of my ear and it’s like he’s touched a nipple. I shiver involuntarily at the rush of pleasure.

“I desire you,” he says, breath brushing my neck.

I turn my head towards him. “No, this is wrong. This isn’t how… you… You don’t  _ do _ this.” I finish. I try to ignore the warmth that spreads from his touch. The now intense awareness of every part of me touching him.

“You are referring to what you have seen of the future, I take it?” He asks. He hesitates, then continues. “Do you mean this? Being intimate? Or the act itself?”

“I mean… yes, yes. Sex. You don’t do it. Not that I’ve seen. It’s a little unclear… but I don’t  _ think _ so.”

“Ah,” he says. “And because you have not seen it, you assume I do not desire it?”

“No, it’s not that.”

_ Oh god, oh fuck.  _

How do I explain to him that there were no visible moments of this kind if intimacy with Lavellan? And it was because, possibly, he didn’t want to sleep with her while he was lying to her? How do I explain that I see him as too noble for this and that I feel like I’m sullying him somehow with my own desires?

And what about his other self? The one I’d seen in the Fade? Admittedly, the more time I spend with  _ this _ Solas the smaller my hangup becomes. But still.

And despite all of this my body is beginning to burn for him.

“Lyrial, let me make something abundantly clear,” Solas says. He turns and props himself up on one elbow so that he’s looking squarely in my eyes. “I do  _ nothing _ I do not choose to do. I allow nothing to force me, coerce me or influence me. My choices are always my own. If I did not choose to lie with someone it may not have been because I did not wish to, but because the circumstances were not correct.”

“Oh, I know that. I really do. I think you wanted to with everything in you. I don’t know if you did, or didn’t. But I’ve never seen it. At the least, it’s not something that would have happened early on,” I tell him. “And I know nothing could force you to do something against your will.”

“Then why do you seem to feel that you are doing exactly that?” He asks.

“But is it really okay?” I ask him. “How can it be? You know how I feel about you. You have to understand that I can’t keep my feelings and sex separate with you. If we do this again, it’s only going to make it  _ worse. _ ”

“Are you worried about me, or about yourself?” He asks. Not in an accusatory way though.

“Both,” I say.

He looks at me in silence for a while, then sighs.

“You’re right,” he says. “Though I am loathe to admit it at this moment, you are indeed correct. You have a strength of will I find admirable.”

“I wish I didn’t,” I say. “All I want is to let go and damn the consequences. But If I do that there’s no going back. Right now, even though we’ve already, ah, been intimate, it still feels like there’s a line I haven’t crossed yet. It’s probably because you didn’t know, so it didn’t mean as much.”

“And what if I felt similarly?” Solas asks. “About letting go.”

_ What? Hold on. What? _

“But you… why? Why would you feel that way? You barely know me.”

“Hmm, that’s not as true as it might be if we were other than what we are,” he says. “You are, without being in the least dismissive... safe. I have been able to feel your emotions since you regained consciousness. Your feelings are as pure as the situation allows. What’s more, I have touched your being in the Fade. I was able to glean something of the person you are. Your reluctance does not stem from any sort of confusion about how you feel towards me. But more, it seems, from how I feel towards you.”

“Oh,” I say.

“Why are you reluctant?” he asks. “What do you fear? It has much to do with that other self. This much is obvious enough.”

“You leave,” I whisper. I have to force the words past my lips. “Over and over again.”

And now there’s pain. So much pain it's hard to breathe around it. It’s an old pain given a fresh perspective. Knowing Solas leaves is so very different from the idea that the man next to me is the one who will leave. He’s so close. I can touch him if I want to. I can feel him breathing, making small movements as he shifts under the blankets. Alive. Real.

“But surely,” he says. “There is a reason for that. A reason that is in no way related to you, who you are.”

“I… no. That’s true, but…” a tear slides down my face over the bridge of my nose. It tickles and I wipe it away. “Please… it’s hard to explain. It’s a defining fact of what happens between you and… the Inquisitor.” I swallow around Lavellan’s name. I can’t say it. “You leave her, three times that matter. And the last time, you leave her to die with her world. But the worst part of it isn’t that this happens, or that you’re at all malicious about it. No, it’s that you clearly  _ want _ to be with her, and love her. But you can’t because there’s a chance she’ll stop you, distract you, from what you have to do for the People. With the Veil.”

His body goes tense. I realise I haven’t told him yet that I know what he plans to do. He doesn’t say anything and his eyes are dark. I can’t make out his expression. His emotions have also vanished. It feels like he’s holding them close to himself somehow. Something I need to learn how to do.

“When I watched the future, they were like visions but more. I could influence the choices of the Inquisitor, push her to decide on things. I could almost choose her responses for her.”

Trying to explain this feels like walking on amazingly thin ice.

“So… in the end, I, we, both asked you to let us help you. You refused. I have wondered at the exact reasons for it for a long time now. You said that you didn’t want her to see what you would become. That you walked a path of death and that you didn’t want her to walk it with you. She told you that your love for each other was strong enough to survive it all, but you denied that.”

His breathing is harsh now and he’s closed his eyes.

I look away. “So… you asked me what I’m afraid of. It’s that you’ll decide the same thing. That you’ll decide, by yourself, that we can’t be together. For whatever reason. But, let  _ me  _ make something clear to  _ you _ , Solas. I want to help you bring the Veil down. It shouldn’t exist and while it was completely necessary, I believe that it needs to come down now. I  _ want _ to  _ help _ you. However I can.”

He’s shaking now. Trembling a bit. Solas. Not two things I associate. But then again, it’s not as though I could ever feel him before.

“Are you… alright?” I ask. What a stupid question.

“No.” he says harshly. “You know things I had barely even considered yet. You blithely tell me things about myself I find deplorable which  _ have yet to even occur. _ You make me accountable for things I have not actually done. No, I am not ‘alright.’”

“That’s what I meant,” I say. “I don’t want to do that. You’re not responsible for actions or decisions you haven’t made. I know that and I  _ believe _ that completely. I don’t want you to feel as though you are.”

“And yet you fear that I will repeat the actions of a version of myself I am now more than eager to prevent the existence of.”

“Would you?” I ask. “You are the same person, despite the difference in paths and choices. No, actually, that doesn’t matter. The thing is, I wouldn’t put myself between you and your duty. I wouldn’t want you to have to choose. No matter what, you  _ have _ to choose the People. I know that, and I agree with it. If you ever chose differently, you wouldn’t be the man I fell in love with.”

He breathes out. Not a sigh, but more an exhale of released tension. I think I’ve surprised him.

“You mean that, entirely,” he says.

I don’t bother to affirm that. He can feel my emotions.

“I realised a long time ago that a lot of your conflict over that relationship was based on how close she came to swaying you from going through with it.”

“Are you so sure that is what happened?” he asks somewhat acerbically.

To be honest, no. I’m not sure. I can’t explain my meta knowledge of the situation. I don’t even want to begin to think about the ramifications of me being in what I had  _ known _ was a fictional world. What it means to me and to the way I perceive reality.

“More or less... but… this situation does bring into question everything I think I know about this world and how it works. So, I can’t give you a definitive answer.”

“You have given me rather a lot more to think about,” Solas tells me.

“And myself, too,” I say.

We lie next to each other in silence for a time. I’m not tired. I don’t want to go back to the Fade anytime soon, so I would be trying to avoid sleep even if I were. I listen to the muted howl of the wind outside. I look at the walls and ceiling of the tiny cave.

Solas’ light bathes everything around us in a pale blue glow. This place is nothing special. A tiny pocket of stone in the side of a mountain. I think about the other caves I’ve seen in Thedas and I’m suddenly  _ really _ glad there are no passages leading deeper.

Spiders and darkspawn.

_ Fuck. No, no thank you. _

I’m not ready to face the reality of giant spiders and murderous blighted things yet.

There’s also that faint orange glow coming from nearby. I poke my head a little farther out of the blanket and see a glowing rune inscribed on the stone not far from us. I can feel heat coming off it.

The cold is so intense however that it feels negligible, even though I know it isn’t. I can also feel a very faint current of air around us.

“Are you using a barrier to block the entrance?” I ask Solas.

“Yes.”

His voice is steady now, calm. He’s in control of himself. I look over at him and he’s watching me again with an expression of faint interest.

“You’re letting a bit of air pass through so we don’t suffocate, right?” I ask.

He nods. “You are quite observant, and knowledgeable. Yes, If I blocked the entrance entirely we’d run out of clean air to breathe.”

I’m not sure if he’d understand me if I used the words ‘oxygen’ and ‘carbon dioxide’. I have no idea if the words exist in Elvhen. Although, come to think of it, they should. It has to be plausible that the ancient elves knew enough about what I’d call science to understand what makes up the world around them. Right? Surely they would have just used magic instead of technology. They must have known at least as much, probably more, than people from my world. Or… from the world that  _ was _ mine.

There’s so much I could talk to him about. So much I could compare, discuss, theorise over. I want to. But it seems hard right now. There’s a barrier between us at the moment, one that seems to discourage open conversation.

My ardour has definitely cooled as well.

_ To hell with it. I’m not letting this get awkward. _

I burrow back under the blanket and then close the distance between us. I reach an arm over him and hold him loosley. He stiffens at first, then relaxes. I snuggle into his warmth and rest my head on his chest.

He stays completely still for a while, and I worry that I’ve done something stupid.

Then he begins to stroke my hair.

I sigh. It feels good. He’s warm against the cold. And he’s  _ him. _

I wonder idly if this behaviour is more of the wolf behaviour. If I’d have done this before. No, I wouldn't have. I would not have had the courage to rest my head on his chest. Not at all. Then I decide that it doesn’t matter. If this is all I have to worry about for the moment, I can live with it.

His smell permeates everything around me. I breathe it in, savouring it. He smells male, of himself, of our earlier sex and of that wild something. Although I now think I know what that is. It’s the other side of him I’m smelling. Was my sense of smell ever this keen before? Probably not. But I’m not complaining.

He breathes in deeply as well.

_ I wonder if I still smell of the Fade to him? _

The sense of being different, other, goes away. I forget to worry about my body, about how it still feels odd to me. I forget about everything else, the fears, the worries. I revel in the sense of  _ him _ . Of being near him. Drowsiness creeps up on me and I can’t think of why I should resist it.

I drift off to sleep happier in this moment than I can remember being in years.

* * *

It’s cold. Bloody cold. It must be because of the cave.

What cave?

I’m standing outside. The sky is low and bleached, the colour of old bones.

Before me is a drop, down, down into darkness studded with flecks of white. They drift across the black expanse, moving away from me.

My breathe plumes in the air before me and I clench my fists in the pockets of my jacket. It’s such a long way down. I wonder what it would feel like, the fall.

Would it be quick? So quick that I’d barely notice it? Or would I have time to think, to consider what would happen to me when I hit. Would my life pass before my eyes?

I shake my head.

No. Wrong. This is wrong.

Everything around me is murky. Smeared, dirty grey wrapped around indistinct shapes. Where am I?

I look around. There’s nowhere else to go. Just the small patch of ground next to the drop. I’m standing right at the edge. My toes stick out into the air.

Something is close behind me, crowding me. I’m sliding forwards, slowly enough that it’s hard to notice. I look down and see a little more air beneath the toes of my shoes.

I panic, try to push back, to get away from the edge. But there’s nothing there to push against. Something is moving me and I can’t stop it.

I scream, shout something that comes out strangled and unintelligible. I can’t make sense of my situation, what’s happening. Why.

I’m sliding, close and closer now. I nearly lose my balance as my weight shifts to my heels.

Then, with a final scream, I’m falling. Everything vanishes but the smooth, glassy expanse of darkness below me. The white hazes across it like static.

Wind rushes up to meet me, forcing its way into my mouth. I can't  breathe around it. Tears begin to blur my vision. I can see the darkness drawing closer.

I’m screaming but there’s no sound. It’s close, so close. Any second now-

Something heaves me upwards.


	4. A dream by any other name

I’m lying on something warm and soft. I can smell earth and crushed, sun-warmed grass. I’m panting, gasping for air and shaking. I can't feel the sun yet, I'm too cold. The chill of that other place is inside me, my bones, my heart.

Warm hands rub my back and and shoulders, then help me to sit up. When I'm ready, I open my eyes.

I’m in a field, a beautiful meadow of grass and white, star-shaped flowers. Trees stand guard around the clearing and form a barrier that shelters us. They project a stately grace and sense of immense, near timeless age. There’s a small lake not too far away and white clouds skate across its surface as it mirrors the sky above. A gentle breeze ruffles my hair. The warmth of the sun begins to dispel the chill and has an instant, soothing effect. I close my eyes again and rest, taking it in.

Solas is with me of course.

He’s wearing what I can only describe as summer clothing. A sleeveless tunic, bright green trimmed with a golden brown over dark-brown leggings. Leather wraps his legs from the knees down in a pattern I recognise instantly. Again, the design is simple yet elegant. He looks magnificent.

I look down at myself and see, to my complete surprise, that I’m dressed in a similar fashion. However, my colours are sky-blue and a dark grey.

I look back up at him to find him smiling down, holding out a hand.

“I thought you might wish to be clothed, for a change,” he says.

I run my hand over the grey leather that wraps my right leg. The weaving is close, intricate and perfect. I wiggle my foot and find it’s completely secure while at the same time in no way uncomfortable.

After a moment I reach up and allow Solas to pull me to my feet.

“What was that?” my voice is hoarse and I swallow. I sound like I’ve been screaming for hours.

“An unpleasant dream or… perhaps something more. A memory twisted into a nightmare. I saw only the end of it, so I cannot make an accurate judgement.”

“I see. And… how did you know?”

“I could feel your distress.”

“That was horrible. I don’t think I’ve ever had a dream like that.”

Solas takes my arm and links it with his own. He begins walking and I go with him, my only other option being to pull away.

Which I don’t want to do.

We walk in silence for a time. I listen to the birds singing in the trees, the wind rifling the grass. This place seems to project a palpable sense of health and well-being. Was it once real? Or is it something he’s made up out of the Fade for me, to help me feel better? It doesn’t really matter.

“You could learn to control them,” he says.

“No, don’t tell me that. Not now.”

“You do not wish to learn?” he asks, mild reproach in the question.

“No, it’s not that. I know what it means. For someone to be able to consciously control their dreams. It’s another thing to learn or do, another thing to worry about. I’m struggling to keep up with having a new body. Or two? I’m not sure I can stand more at the moment.”

He makes no reply. We keep walking for a time.

We reach the edge of the lake. The water is like glass, so transparent that I can see clear through to the lake bed. Small silver fish dart in and around fronds of fine weed that drift and sway in the water. The clarity lasts until the water becomes reflective. Then I can see blue sky and clouds mirrored in the water, almost without transition.

He stops walking and pulls me down to sit beside him.

Everything that’s happened to me flits around my brain like a swarm of maddened bees. I can barely keep my thoughts coherent. The nightmare overshadows everything, giving it all an air of malice and panic.

I know there are things I should talk with him about. Still things I should tell him. I try to order my thoughts, recall the information I know is important to him.

“There’s more that you need to know,” I say.

He nods and waits for me to continue. He’s been very patient until now. I realise he must have been more than keen to know anything else that could help him.

“First, I think you should know about Wisdom," I gesture to the air in front of us and summon a memory. I don’t start with the hard part, instead, I bring up the scene in the rotunda.

We watch as the memory of him asks the Inquisitor to help him locate his friend. I leave out the scene of him drinking tea. I find it adorable and look forward to seeing it in person for the first time. I don’t want to let him know how much I’d like that, though.

I watch the memory Solas’ face as he asks for help. I see how he seems to expect refusal. Then I see delight and hope blossom as the Inquisitor assures him she’ll help.

It finishes and I let the image fade away.

“Ah,” Solas says. “If you are showing me this, then I assume the search ends poorly.”

“Yes," my voice is small and dry. I don’t want to show him Wisdom’s death. If it can be stopped, then there’s no reason he'll ever have to see it. If it can’t be, then I’ll have shown it to him once more than he should need to bear.

“Show me.”

I shake my head. Not in refusal, but in unhappiness at the request.

“If you are this reluctant, then I can only assume the worst. Show me so that I know exactly what happens and how to prevent it.”

I rub my eyes then bring up the Exalted Plains. A group of people races along a riverbank towards the sound of panicked voices. The Inquisitor and Solas are there of course, but I also recognise Cassandra and Cole. There’s something odd about Cole, but I can’t quite place it.

The group arrives at a clearing. Four stone pillars flare with malevolent energy, binding a creature more terrifying and deadly than I expect. Human mages mill around the binding stones, clearly at a loss.

The Inquisitor and Solas confront the mages. I can’t tear my eyes away from the demon, however. It’s dark skin crackles with bolts of sickly lightning. Horns sweep up and over its head and flares of electricity arc between them. Its eyes are dark, black as the void in my nightmare, but they glitter with malign intelligence. It seems to be sneering at me from the vision, mocking me. Arrogance flows out from it and leaves me feeling insignificant in the face of all it represents.

Then the group is attacking, trying desperately to destroy the pillars. Cassandra distracts the demon while Cole harries it from behind. Solas and the Inquisitor hurl bolts of energy at the pillars, destroying them one after the other.

But it’s too late.

The last one explodes in a burst of rubble. The demon flickers and flows inwards, taking on the form of a female elf made of green light. She’s damaged, her energy spattering as cracks form across her body. Solas falls to his knees in front of her.

I don’t want to watch this again. Not here. I look away and find myself staring at Cole… who’s looking right back at me? I start and rub my eyes. When I look again his attention is fixed on the spirit of Wisdom.

Next to me, Solas tenses. I close my eyes and hear Wisdom’s final words.

The mages try to excuse themselves and their actions. I listen in silence as the memory of Solas burns them alive for what they’ve done. I hear him tell the Inquisitor that he needs time, and I end the vision.

The day around us seems darker. The wind has picked up and I notice that clouds have gathered in the sky. I shiver and hug myself. I’d like to put my arms around Solas but I can feel his seething anger. His hatred of the human mages who had dared, will dare, to do that to his oldest friend.

“I will not allow this,” he says. His voice is like the sound of flame, of death burning through flesh and bone and into the soul.

The sky grows darker and I can see flickers of things in the trees. Shapes twisting around the trunks. I try not to look too closely. I can guess what they are.

“It doesn’t have to happen,” I say, trying to reassure him. “You can change it.”

“I shall.”

Drops of water hit my face and I look up. A storm has gathered above us. The wind is now chill and cuts through the summer clothing I’m wearing.

I reach out and touch his arm. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I should have found a different way of telling you.”

He looks down at my hand and then at my face. He notices the weather and a wry smile twists his lips. Then the summer sun is back. I can still feel water on my skin, but everything else has returned to the pleasant state from before.

“I apologise," Solas says. "That was… difficult. Worse, in some ways, than seeing my foci destroyed. I can only blame myself for  _ that _ . But this…” his voice trails off.

“I know… I wish I hadn’t…” I try to say but he cuts in.

“No, do not apologise. That was in no way your doing. Showing me gives me the chance to change it. To stop it from ever happening. For this, I am grateful beyond words.”

I nod and sigh and watch the fish in the lake.

“Is there anything else of similar importance you need to show me?” Solas asks.

I shake my head. “No… but there are two other things you need to know. And you’re probably going to be annoyed that I’ve waited this long.”

“You have been distracted,” he says.

“Yes, well, please keep that in mind.” I pull up my knees and hug them. “For the first, I don’t need a vision in the Fade. It’s information… which I know you want desperately. Or I assume you do. It's a phrase, a key. One which I’m not sure will work just yet.”

I look at him out of the corner of my eye. He’s watching me like the proverbial hawk.

“Fen’Harel’s blessing,” I say. “The key to the Eluvian network.”

Solas nods and smiles, but otherwise he doesn't react. I’m more than a little taken aback.

“Is that all?” I ask.

“Frankly, if you had told me this before showing me Wisdom's fate, I would have had a stronger reaction. I’m afraid that has somewhat driven aside my other concerns for the moment.”

“Oh, um... well then.”

“What is the other important information you have?”

“Mmm,” I say. Then I concentrate. I bring into existence the image of a human woman, white hair swept back from her head in a crest made of horns. Piercing yellow eyes stare down at us and I shiver.

“This is... Flemeth. The Dalish call her ‘woman of many years’. She is the Witch of the Wilds, specifically the Korcari Wilds. She is also what remains of Mythal in the world.”

I have no idea whether Solas knows about her or not. I have been led to believe that he didn’t until the end of the sequence of events which led to his orb in pieces.

I watch him now. He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. He stands, moving to circle the image in front of us.

“Please don’t tell me it’s going to come to life, I’m not sure I’m ready for that,” I say.

“Your readiness is irrelevant, I'm afraid." A voice I recognise says from behind us. "You have summoned me with knowledge none should posses. Not even my daughters know to connect that name and my image. I wonder how it is that  _ you _ do?"

_ Shit. Fuck! _

I scramble to my feet and whirl around.

She stands behind me, regarding me with the exact look one might spare an interesting insect. I back away from her until I feel water around my ankles.

Then she turns and I watch wide-eyed as her expression softens. “Old friend. Why am I not surprised?”

Solas is walking towards her, his stride heavy and deliberate. His awareness seems to have narrowed to her exclusively. This is familiar... too familiar. I've seen this before, in a different time and place.

I have the very intense desire to leave. To wake up.

I do  _ not _ want to be here now. This is a private moment between two of the oldest beings in this world. What’s worse is that I don’t understand their relationship. For all I know they could have been lovers. Oh, I hope  _ very much _ that they were not. But I simply don’t know.

My presence is intrusive now. I don't think they even care, but I do. Solas and Flemeth... no, Fen'Harel and Mythal. The woman he  _ said  _ he'd imprisoned the Evanuris for. The woman he admired before any other being.

I didn't want to be present  _ during _ their meeting. The vague idea I had of it was that Solas would go and look for her on his own. In the Fade sure, but  _ not _ while I was with him.

I'm getting so very sick of the Fade and its bullshit.

I back away along the shore and then sit down, trying to make myself as small as possible. I don’t know how to wake up. And if I somehow leave the Fade, there’s a good chance I’ll end up back in that nightmare. I mean, I don’t know for sure it  _ won’t _ happen. And I prefer even this extreme awkwardness and feeling of intrusion to the black terror of that dream. It felt like death.

I try not to watch but at the same time, I’m fascinated. I can’t hear them. They’re speaking softly and I’ve moved far enough away that their words are a low buzz.

He’s standing in front of her now. She reaches out and cups his cheek in one gauntleted hand then rests it on his shoulder.

After a few minutes, they both turn to look at me. I nearly jump out of my skin and decide to pay furious attention to the lake.

_ What can I do, what can I do? I need a distraction. _

I concentrate and then I’m looking at a lineup of all the core members of the Inquisition. It’s different here, looking at them like this. Even though I’m using my memory, some essential real-ness is present that I've never seen before. Everything is visible, all the small details that I’ve missed. Cassandra looks much older, as does Leliana… and Cullen for that matter. They all seem older than I expect. I can see all the fine lines that edge their eyes and mouths. I move my perspective along the line, one by one, until I get to Cole.

Again, something seems off about the image. He looks at me and there’s almost a hint of awareness in his eyes, as though he can see me.

“Cole?” I ask, keeping my voice low.

The image blinks and then steps forward. I’d like to be surprised, but at this point, I fail miserably. He’s not solid the way Solas and Flemeth are, the way I assume I am. His edges seem to bleed into his surroundings, wisping away into Fade essence.

“I know you,” he says. “But I don’t. Am I a dream, or are you? Are you real?”

His voice is so young, vulnerable and uncertain.

I do what I’ve been wanting to do for a long time. I stand up and give him a hug.

He stands stiffly, and doesn't reciprocate.

“Copy me,” I say. “Put your arms around me the way I am around you. Please, it would be really helpful to me.”

“Helpful,” he repeats. He raises his arms and rests them in a light embrace around me. I sigh and lean into it. Cole is safe, as safe as any being in the world I could think of. Compassion wanting only to heal the hurt of those around him.

After a few minutes, I let him go. He stands and looks at me. His hat obscures most of his upper face but I can see his eyes glinting from beneath the brim.

He says, “I am here, but not. This is the Fade, but I am not  _ in _ the Fade. I can feel that. I’m outside, alone and lonely, trying to find somewhere to be. To be me.”

I laugh. Not at him, but at myself, at the situation.

“Oh Cole, I’m sorry. This is probably selfish of me.”

“No, not selfish,” he says, then surprises me by taking my hand. “You hurt and this is a small help. I am glad to help.”

I sit down on the grass and Cole sits with me.

“Solas says I’m like you, that I was a spirit but made a body for myself. Can you feel that at all? Do I feel like you?” I ask him.

“You are… different. And the same. But different. Your being is other, you come from somewhere else, you came here to be and then _became_. I can feel that.”

Strangely enough, I understand exactly what he means. It’s clear in the right context. But that’s usually the case with Cole. 

The one part I don't understand is that I 'came here to be'. I want to ask him how, but I realise he won't be able to tell me.

Cole looks so out of place in this idylic setting. Bright sunshine, blue water and sky, white flowers. He's pale and thin and I can see the starved, frightened boy the real Cole must have been.

“Is it bad for you to be here, like this?” I ask him.

“No. Why would it be?”

“Won’t it change something… from where you are or where the other you is now?”

“No. I don’t think so,” he says.

“Cole, can I ask you a question?”

“Yes, you can always ask questions.”

I grin. “Okay, can you _answer_ a question for me please?”

He nods.

“You seem to be between one thing and another. I know how you become more yourself, and how you become more real. But which would you prefer?”

“I don’t know. How can I know until I am?” he asks.

“Good point.”

We both sit for a while, watching the clouds skip across the water. I’m aware of Solas and Flemeth. They've moved away from the two of us. I wonder if they’re staying out of consideration for me or because it doesn’t really matter to them that I’m here.

“Both,” Cole says.

“Thank you.”

“You can leave if you like,” Cole tells me. “You can go somewhere else, or go back to sleep. You don’t have to dream.” Then he shivers. “I don’t like your dream, it feels like me, from before. Before I knew what I was.”

“I don’t know how,” I tell him.

“Oh.”

“Cole, I want to meet you, outside, in the unchanging world. Will I?”

“Yes, and no. It depends on what you do next. You can meet me the way you did before, or another way, or not at all.”

I consider his answer. It makes sense when you consider time travel and the ability to actually change events. As opposed being stuck in a loop you can’t escape.

“Can you show me how to wake up?” I ask.

“Yes,” he says. “Find the string that ties you back to your body and follow it. It’s not hard.”

I look back at the two gods in the distance. I wonder if they’ll want to speak to me. Then decide that even if they do, they can always come and find me when they want me.

I’m very, very wary of Flemeth. She’s so focused on her revenge and getting what she wants that she scares the shit out of me. I’ve always loved her. But it’s easier to admire someone when you’re separated from them by a comfortable wall of unreality.

Those two people speaking with their heads together could destroy the entire bloody world. And I’m now a part of it. Suffice it to say, I don’t want them to do any such thing.

I try to feel for the ‘string’ Cole mentioned. And I actually find it. It’s like a strand of spiderweb that leads off into the dark. When I concentrate on it I can tell that dark is my own unconscious mind. Home.

“Thank you, Cole. I’ll see you again.”

He smiles at me. It’s not a very comforting sight. It’s like he’s still learning what a smile is.

“Yes, probably," he says, then vanishes.

I jump.

_ I am definitely going to have to get used to that. _

I follow the thread that leads to my body and feel the safe, comfortable dark of dreamless sleep wrap around me.

 

When I wake up I’m alone.

I bolt upright and look around. I see Solas crouched not far from me and slump back onto the bedroll, breathing hard.

When my heart stops racing, I sit up. It’s not as cold in the cave. The orange glow of the rune is brighter and he appears to be tending to a pot he’s placed on it. He’s wearing a green wool coat, breeches and boots. Actual, closed boots. I guess even he doesn’t want to lose toes to frostbite.

The coat gapes open however and I see that he has nothing on underneath.

“Next to you,” he says.

I blink at him for a moment, then look down. Folded neatly next to me on the ground is his cream coloured, long-sleeved woolen tunic.

With something bordering on reverence I pick it up. It’s soft and thick. I run my fingers over the ribbing and then trace the leather collar. I look at him with raised eyebrows.

“You need something to wear,” he says. “And that is all I have to spare for the moment. I apologise, but I did not bring much with me.”

“I can wear it?” I ask. The question sounds idiotic, but I can’t help it. It feels like someone has just offered me the most priceless garment in existence to use as a dressing gown.

“That is the idea, yes. Unless you object?” He’s most certainly poking fun at me. I don’t care.

I pull on the tunic and feel it drape over my much slighter frame. The sleeves are too long, but it’s nice and cozy. I can tell that when I stand the tails will come to mid-thigh. How much shorter am I? Or is it just that he’s broader across the shoulders and chest?

I sit and snuggle into the tunic for a while. It smells like him of course, and I love it. The entire experience.

How many times have I drawn this very garment? I honestly can’t say. It's so much softer than it looks.

“I might have offered you something spun from silverite and gold, from your expression,” Solas remarks.

I blush.

“I’ve seen you wear it so many times it’s become representative of you. Almost a part of you.” I tell him. “So it feels strange and wonderful that I can touch it, let alone wear it.”

He smiles but doesn’t otherwise respond. I sit for a while, thinking. About the Fade, about him, about Cole… and of course about Flemeth. Mythal.

I decide that I am not going to bring her up unless he does. In fact, I’m not going to bring up anything from the Fade unless he speaks of it first. It’s too soon to deal with. There are so many other things I have to worry about. Things far simpler and easier to think about.

I’m aware now of a smell, something delicious. Food.

And of course I realise that I haven’t wanted to eat or drink anything at all since I found myself here.

The thought makes me frown and I concentrate on my stomach. I’m not hungry per se. But on the other hand,  I could definitely eat something. It reminds me of the feeling of an appetite suppressant.

Solas is cooking or warming something using his heating rune. It’s kind of impressive when I pause to think about it. It looks as though the rune works like a heating element. He essentially has a portable source of heat that doesn’t require fuel. I suppose it uses his mana as fuel. If mana is a concept that actually exists as I understand it. For all I know it could just be a fictional system for measuring resources.

I decide I’ve been on this bedding for long enough. I may not exactly be dressed but now I’m at least covered.

I get onto my knees and stand up.

Or try to.

As soon as I attempt to rise I realise my balance is completely off. It’s not that my legs are weak, it’s that my centre of gravity is completely different. It feels like trying to stand up in a canoe.

The floor seems to shake underneath me and I sit back down.

Hard.

_ Well, that was embarrassing. _

The fact that I had no trouble moving around in the Fade annoys me. Clearly, it’s given me a false impression of myself. I expected to be able to walk and so I could.

Now… this will take a little practice.

“It is not as bad as you might think,” Solas says.

I look up to find him watching me with something like sympathy.

“You will find your body learns quickly. Once you move around more, it will begin to feel more natural.”

“You did not see the need to tell me this before now?” I ask a little tartly.

“I did not know what would happen. I have not encountered one such as you before. For all I knew, you would have no difficulty at all.”

I flop back down onto the bedding, trying to inject as much disgust and annoyance into the movement as I can.

“Wonderful,” I mutter.

I hear footsteps and sit up again to watch as Solas comes towards me. He’s carrying a bowl balanced in one hand and a strip of cloth in another. The bowl is steaming but smells of nothing in particular.

He sets it on the ground next to me and offers me the cloth. I take it after a moment and look at him questioningly.

“Hot water. I thought perhaps you would wish to refresh yourself.”

Warmth blazes across my cheeks as I realise what he means. Bathing. Cleaning myself. But also… cleaning myself _downstairs_.

“There is no need to be embarrassed,” Solas says gently. He kneels down beside me. “Technically, we are both responsible for any discomfort you may feel. I can tell that you are not embarrassed at the intimacy itself. There is no need to be at the thought of cleaning yourself afterwards.”

But I am of course. As silly as it may be, I am entirely embarrassed about this.

It’s not something I’ve had to do before. My ex had used protection and that side of it had always been his concern. I hadn’t ever felt the need to ask him about it. Why would I?

And then another thought hits me.

“Solas…” my voice is hoarse. “Do I have to worry about…” I can’t finish the question.

But he seems to guess what I’m asking. Either because he can read my emotions or because it’s a logical thing to ask considering the situation.

“No,” he says. And there is a definite air of finality about that statement.

“Are you sure? We uh… um… you… inside me…” I trail off.

“No Lyrial,” he says again. “You do not have to worry about that possibility. I would not have allowed us to continue if there was a chance you could fall pregnant.”

I look up at him. He’s still kneeling beside me. He’s as certain as I’ve ever seen him. This is a fact for him. Absolute. And to be honest, what he says makes sense. He is far from the kind of person who would be irresponsible in that way.

“Oh, good,” I say. I’m feeling a little light-headed now.

Crisis averted.

Feeling embarrassed about cleaning myself seems silly in comparison. I shrug, pick up the cloth and dip it in the hot water.

Solas stands and goes back to the pot of something he’s been tending to.

I clean myself up as best I can with the hot cloth. I run my fingers through my hair and decide it doesn't need a wash yet, but may soon. Then wonder what the heck to do with the spent water afterwards.

But Solas arrives and reclaims the bowl, plucking the cloth from my hands before I have a chance to ask about it. I watch him as he empties it near the entrance of the cave and then kneels before the drift of snow kept at bay by his barrier. He reaches through it and I feel something for a moment. I have no way to define it other than as a kind of tingling at the back of my mind.

He digs some snow out and uses it to scrub the bowl.

He’s so efficient in everything he does. Completely matter of fact and un-phased. What he’s doing is also so _completely_ mundane that it hits me worse than any of the weirdness I’d experienced recently.

Solas is doing chores.

Cooking, cleaning… even tending to me as though I were an invalid.

I knew he’s had to be self-sufficient for a time. As much as his elven apostate disguise is just that, he’s clearly traveling alone right now. So, one assumes he’s also been looking after himself.

He returns to the small pot and pours something into both the bowl and what looks like a tin mug. 

Oh no. The bowl is the one he uses for eating.

_ Oh god. _

Now I am really and truly mortified.

Then he’s standing and holding the bowl out to me. I take it without a word, knowing my cheeks and my emotions say more than enough.

I’m not disgusted by how it was used. I’m embarrassed that he’d used his eating bowl as a wash basin for me. I know that there had obviously been no choice about it. But still.

I examine the contents and find he’s prepared something like a chunky broth. Bits of meat boiled with some grains.

“Only eat as much as your stomach will accept,” he says.

I realise I have a body that has never eaten or drunk anything before. Why am I not hungrier, or at least thirsty?

I raise the bowl and sip.

It’s not exactly haute cuisine. It is what it looks like, albeit seasoned with a bit of salt.

I swallow and wait, anxious about how my stomach will react.

And… nothing. I don’t feel anything I wouldn’t expect to feel.

I take another sip, chew and swallow some of the meat.

But after only one more mouthful I have the distinct impression that I’m now full. I sit with my legs crossed on the bedding with Solas facing me. He’s sipping from his mug.

I look up at him in confusion. “I can’t eat any more,” I say.

“Then do not,” he immediately replies. “As I said, you should only eat as much as your stomach allows. Do not force yourself.”

“But I’ve hardly had anything! Is this because I’m unused to food?”

“In a way.” He looks at me searchingly but I have no idea why. “You do not need much, not unless you expend more energy than you have thus far.”

“What does that mean?” I ask. “Even if I lay in bed for a week I’d still become hungry. That’s how it works.”

“Not for you,” Solas smiles at me. “Not for us.”

I decide I don’t actually want to know. Not now. It’s still too much to deal with. One thing after another. All I want right at that moment is to be able to stand without falling over. To move, walk around. To get out of the bloody cave.

I just nod and hand him the bowl when he reaches for it.

“Are you better? Or recovered?” I ask him as he busies himself putting both of our leftovers away. He hasn’t finished his food either.

“I have recovered my energy, yes,” he replies.

“Oh... good.”

I fidget with the leather cuff of his tunic.

He finishes what he’s doing then returns to me. He sits down facing me again and looks at me. Then, he sighs.

“We should talk,” Solas says.

_ Here we go. _

“And what would be our topic of conversation?”

“There are any number of things we should discuss,” he says. “But for now, I believe it would be beneficial to discuss  _ us _ .”

“There have to be more important topics than that,” I say.

“Perhaps,” he allows. “But none quite as pressing, or personal.”

Echoes of Crestwood. A discussion about what Solas and Lavellan are to each other.

_ No. _

“I don’t see how there can be an 'us'. You’ve known me for perhaps a day or two?” I shake my head. “I don’t hold you accountable for the actions of your other self. And I certainly don’t expect you to emulate him.”

“You say that, and yet you fear I will do exactly that.” He’s annoyed. But he sighs again and shakes his head. “In the end, I cannot deny that your fear is justified. You have witnessed actions that I am undeniably capable of.”

I don’t understand what he’s annoyed about.

“What do you  _ want _ Solas?” I ask. A question that might be dangerous, but I need to hear the answer.

“What I want is not something I generally have the luxury of considering,” he says. “However, in this regard, what I want seems to align closely with what I need.”

He reaches forward and takes both of my hands. In my surprise I let him. He holds them with my palms facing upwards, and presses a thumb gently into the centre of each palm.

“Do you know how much of a gift you are?” he asks.

I stare at him, afraid to say anything.

“You appear before me from the Fade. A mystery, and one I am eager to solve. But when you awaken almost everything you say or do is a salvation of some kind. I long for touch, for intimacy and you give it to me eagerly. I agonise about my decision regarding my foci, and you show me how poorly I'd chosen. You show me how to save an old friend. Give me the gift of priceless information and reunite me with and an even older friend. And apart from all of this, yet equally as vital to me, you are _real_ and you are a wolf.”

“When you put it that way, it only sounds suspicious,” I say in a small voice.

He laughs but he’s still smiling. He seems unconcerned by this thought.

“Yes, the monumental coincidence of this does beggar belief somewhat. But I sense no falseness in you. However you came to be here, it does not appear to have been by your doing or by your own choice.”

I want to be happy about what I’m hearing, but the more enthusiastic about me he appears, the more uneasy I become.

I realise that this has been bothering me for a while now. How much I seem to have been  _ made _ for him. If someone or something had wanted to create a being designed to distract him, they couldn’t have done any better than me.

Well, apart from the fact that I have my own mind. And that I have far too much knowledge about this world to bring myself to trust in happy coincidences.

I break my previous vow.

“What does Flemeth think of me?” I ask him.

He frowns and does not appear altogether pleased that I have brought her into this discussion.

“She is cautious, but agrees that you are... a valuable resource.”

Well, if that isn’t just the nicest compliment I’ve ever received?

_ Like fucking hell. _

“You’re paraphrasing aren’t you? I know enough about her to know she’d never be  _ that _ polite.”

“Yes, I am. But she also agrees that your emotions are genuine. That your feelings for me can be trusted.”

I sigh.

“Very well, that’s great. Just wonderful. So, let me ask you again, Dread Wolf, what do you  _ want _ ?”

I’m pushing him but I need a clear statement. Need to know exactly where I stand. I’m not willing to make any decisions of my own until I hear his answer.

He looks into my eyes in silence for a while. I have the opportunity to study his face again, note the colour of his eyes. They seem bluer at the moment, although that might just be the magical light picking up the hue. He is exactly as I have seen so many times. But more. He is not perfectly still for one thing. He moves a little, shifting, adjusting his posture. All the normal movements a real person makes. He smells amazing as well. I realise that I’ve fallen in love with his smell almost as much as I have with him.

And then, slowly, carefully, so that I can have no chance of misunderstanding him, he says, “I want  _ you _ .”


	5. When dreams come true

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now with added NSFW illustration at the end of the chapter.

When you’re finally given something you’ve longed for, it can almost be traumatic. There’s initial disbelief. How can this be real? Is it a trick? Is it really happening?

Then all at once you begin to believe.

A rush of emotion fills me. Emotion so strong I can’t actually tell what it is.

I stare at Solas. My eyes are wide and my mouth gapes open.

Did I hear him right? Did he actually just say that?

_‘I want you.’_

Yes… it isn’t my imagination.

He’s grinning at me, the lines of his face drawn up into a beautiful expression of joy and amusement. He looks so much younger suddenly. Like a different version of himself. A happier version.

“But… why?”

He laughs. “Do you not believe in love at first sight?”

I think for a time, think about the first time I saw him. Then shake my head. “No, not really.”

“In Elvhenan it was more than possible,” he tells me. “The connection to the Fade that all elvhen possessed allowed for a profoundly deep and lasting union. It could form between those who were alike unto one another and bound them both in living bonds of feeling. Though this has not happened in ages it does not mean it cannot again.”

“So they had no choice in it?” I ask.

“Of course there was a choice. No such thing can occur against the desire of a being. One must be willing.”

“Oh… then, what do you mean?”

“Have you not felt it?” He asks me, then shakes his head apparently at himself. “No, how could you? Your feelings for me predate our actual meeting. What truly matters is that I have felt such a bond, for you. And that I am willing.”

My eyes are wide. Is this even possible?

“Since when?”

“Almost from the moment of your awakening,” he says. “I would not have accepted your advances otherwise.”

_Oh. Well. Alright then. That makes sense. He would not have had sex with me unless he’d felt that connection. Yes. Okay._

But… that also explains why he’s been so nice to me. So patient and understanding.

“There is as well the truth that love invites a similar response. What you offer is too great to turn from. And more, I am unwilling to. Precious things are worth the risk of choosing. The depth of your emotion gives me all that I need in response.”

Right. All well and good, but I had always known he was capable of earth-shatteringly strong love. That had always been clear. It was never enough to stop him from leaving though.

“Solas,” I whisper. “There’s no going back for me. If I give in to this, I’m yours. You will have the power to… to hurt me. And I’ve already experienced it before, I know what it’s like. And I know how much worse this could be.”

He’s still holding my hands and he squeezes them gently. Reassuringly.

“I believe that works both ways. You may not believe yourself capable of it at present, but you will have that power as well."

I think about it for a few minutes. He waits for me.

I’m not really reasoning things out, just letting the thought of it flow through me. So that I can feel it.

I think about risk versus reward. About choosing happiness and love, even knowing that it could be fleeting. About choosing a relationship even knowing that it could end.

Worth it. It will always be worth it. Sparing yourself the possibility of pain at the cost of love and happiness is foolish. Love in the midst of danger, of war, always comes with the risk that it can end abruptly. Hell, even everyday life can deprive you of a loved one.

I know that in the end, there’s no other choice I can make.

“If you want me,” I say. "Then I’m yours. I have been from the start.”

His grip on my hands strengthens and he pulls me close. I gasp at the suddenness of it, but I'm far from upset. His arms wrap around me and then he’s crushing me to himself. I’m crying. I’m so happy that it’s a sharp pain in my chest. I gasp and laugh and then his lips are on mine, soft and full.

We haven’t actually kissed yet. I’ve kissed him, but it was one-sided.

Now, he moulds his lips to mine and his tongue is there, insistent. I open my mouth for him and he delves into me. We consume each other. I realise I’m grasping him with as much force as he’s using. I’m pressed along his body with only the thin barrier of our clothing separating us.

I tolerate this. For now.

Oh, the taste of him, his mouth. His teeth where they scrape my lip, the smooth slide of his tongue as he explores me. His breathing is heavy, deep panting lungfuls that don’t ever seem to be enough for him. I could suffocate on him, but it doesn’t matter.

I have him.

I can feel the need in him, building, rising. I can feel my own, dwarfed by his but more than enough to impel me.

I’m only aware that he’s pulled up the woolen tunic when his hands are on my breasts. I gasp and moan into his mouth as his fingers circle my nipples and begin to tug them. The sensation seems to bypass my brain and pull at the core of me.

_More sensitive. I’m more sensitive now._

I begin to throb as I grow wet.

Reaching up, I try to return the favour and bring my hands to his ears. I run my fingers along the outer edge of the points and then squeeze them between the tips of my fingers. He growls into my mouth and I shiver again as he pinches my nipples in response.

I can feel his emotions. He’s letting me. They flow over and around us both and merge with mine. I focus on them and realise I can understand them in a way. I can listen to them… and respond.

I can feel what he likes and dislikes, what he wants. And I know he can do the same for me. This changes the dynamic. I don’t have to guess. I don’t have to remain the inexperienced one in this.

I listen to them as I play with his ears, noting his responses and acting on them. It’s his turn to moan and the hard length of him presses against me through his clothing.

I release his ears and run my hands over his bare chest, beneath his coat. I pass my fingers over his nipples and he gasps. But I want him naked now. I push his coat back over his shoulders and he raises his arms so that it falls from them. We both take a moment as we part to stare at each other.

His gaze is hooded. I’ve seen that look before, know what it means. But now it’s him looking at me like that. It makes me shiver with delight and anticipation.

I shrug out of my borrowed tunic as he reaches down and undoes his laces. He pushes his trousers down and reveals himself to me. My first actual sight of him.

_Beautiful._

The word is at once perfect and inadequate. He’s beautiful.

Long, smooth and pale, reddening towards the head. Sparse, reddish-brown hair surrounds the base of him. It doesn’t curl and is more like short fur than pubic hair. He’s also… large. At least, I think so? I have no actual way to tell. He’s the first naked elvhen male I’ve ever seen.

The thought makes me giggle and he raises his eyebrows at me.

“Sorry,” I gasp, trying not to spoil the mood. “It’s just the first time I’ve ever seen anyone... like you. And I realised I have no basis for comparison.”

His blue-grey eyes are dark. His lips are parted and he licks them. His skin glows in the magical light. He’s unearthly. So much more than flesh and blood. So real. His gaze is heavy as it rests on me, but he holds himself still, allowing me to drink in the sight of him.

“And what is your assessment?” he asks. His voice is low, throaty. Almost a hint of a growl.

“Exquisite,” I say and reach for him.

I take him in my hand and sigh at how smooth and firm he is. He pushes his trousers further down and I can see his thighs. Every bit as sculpted as I’d imagined. His body is breathtaking. All of it.

God-like.

Clean lines of muscle on a lean frame. He’s shaped like someone who uses his body, like a male gymnast. This isn’t the body of someone who stands back and allows others to fight for him. Or the body of a scholar, or a mage for that matter. This is the body of a warrior, lithe, with cat-like grace. Elvhen grace.

I’m moving my hand along him, listening to the pulses of pleasure I feel from him. I change how I do it when he reacts, adjusting my movement to what he prefers. The skin is silky and he's large enough that my now-slender hands can't wrap around all of him. I use my thumb to circle the tip of him then squeeze.

He reaches down towards me and uses one hand to stroke me as well. I moan as his fingers slide over me, working along my flesh. He knows what I want, better than I do at this point. I don’t know what I like anymore. Where I’m sensitive and where not. But he listens to my reactions as he uses his fingers on me. He knows exactly how fast or hard, when to change position or angle, when to apply pressure and where. Then his fingers ease into me and curl. I convulse, almost collapse against him.

I’m trembling around his fingers. His own hips are moving, small rocking movements into my hand.

I realise that we're both groaning wordlessly. The sounds are almost involuntary.

He leans forward and kisses me again, tongue assailing my mouth. We’re locked like that, lost in each other. I can't think around the growing blaze inside me. I'm drunk on him. On the feel of him against me, in my hand and inside me, his lips on mine.

Then we both feel it, that point where this is no longer enough.

I break away from his mouth. “What do you _want_ , Fen’Harel?”

He groans. A sound that holds an eternity of need and unmet desire.

“Turn around,” he says. “I want you on your hands and knees.”

I make an involuntary sound, like a whine, and stare into his eyes. They're dark with feral hunger and promise.

Then I turn and drop.

He grips my ass with both hands, kneads it. The length of him rubs against me and I whine again. I need him inside me. Now.

He thrusts against my slick flesh a few times, covering himself in me, then begins to ease himself in.

I know this position could make this more intense, that he can go deeper than he had been able to before. It excites me. I want it, want to feel _all_ of him.

He passes my entrance easily and begins to drive himself further inside. Every movement, every millimetre he gains, is beyond divine.

I grasp the bedding, feel myself opening for him. Then he’s deeper, in further. There’s pain, but not a lot and I ignore it.

He’s buried inside me. His thighs are flush against my backside. I moan, whine, pant at the sensation. He’s still. Allows me to adjust, waits for my body to surrender to him.

I'm impatient. I gyrate my hips, feel myself move around him and he grunts in response.

It’s so good, so good good _good_. I can’t imagine it being better.

And then he moves.

He pulls out of me but not all the way. His pace is maddening. It's a perfect mirror of his delicious inward journey.

I can’t concentrate on anything but the feel of him. I stop trying to read his emotions. He’s in control now, he knows what he wants.

Then he’s back inside me, with almost no transition. I cry out, wordless.

He’s moving, no pause, no break.

Solas has decided I’m ready and I am. _I am._

In out, in out. So fast and hard and the tension builds inside me, the sensation of him against me, over me, within me.

My mind slips sideways at the feeling. I lose my sense of self. My sense of this body not being mine. In that moment I accept it, as I haven’t done before.

This is me and Solas is _inside_ me.

He leans forward and his hand is under me, moving over me. His fingers find my sensitive centre and begin a dance of pressure over my flesh. He's covering me and some of his weight rests on me. His fingers probe me, circle around my innermost point and caress my core.

My arms tremble and then the strength is gone from them. I fall forward onto the bedding, but he keeps me firmly locked to himself, hand on my hip. I clutch at the blankets, moan into them.

He's building, his own release close. He holds it off though, somehow, prolonging this for both of us.

I'm moving with him. I can no longer tell that we're separate beings. Our feelings, our passion and pleasure flow over and around each other. He responds to my every want and I move against him, trying to give him what he needs from me.

Our position speaks to something inside both of us. Something I almost recognise.

Thrusting. Movement. Pressure building. Skin against skin. My whole body moves and I press back into him. I meet him.

More more more. I need it, need him. I’m almost there, close, close, so close. He increases the speed of his fingers, rubbing bliss into me.

I reach the edge and hurtle over it.

He cries out and shoves himself into me, swells and spends. He's hot and pulsing. I’m shuddering around him, clenching and twitching. My body jerks, I can't control my own movements. My legs fall, dropping us both. Solas manages to catch himself partially but his weight still falls on me.

I love it, the feeling of him heavy and solid across me.

He’s gasping for air. I am too. We both stay as we are. I can’t move. My limbs are boneless. Liquid.

I’m so happy I don’t know how to contain it, how I ever will.

We don’t speak. I’m not sure that either of us can. He knows I’m fine, that I’m enjoying his weight. We breathe and allow the feeling of orgasm to pass through us.

I don’t know how long it takes, but eventually he slips out. Then he rolls off of me so that he’s lying facing me. I turn as well, maneuver myself so that I can look into his eyes.

We’re pressed against each other. Even if there was more space, we’d choose to be this close.

I wrap my arms around him, cling to him. Our legs are tangled, our skin adheres with the light sheen of sweat we’ve worked up.

I’m still throbbing and trembling inside. I can feel the heat of it still, the soft ache of the friction. I savour it.

His hands are on my back, moving up and down my skin. I press my face into his neck and close my eyes. I’m not sleepy. I wouldn’t fall asleep now for any reason. I want to be awake, aware for all of this.

Neither of us speaks. There’s no need. Our communion is wordless and absolute. We’re both still half-lost in the feel of the other’s body.

Right now, and for the first time in a very long time, I’m happy.

Truly, simply, happy.

I can still feel his emotions, he’s still letting me. He’s calm, content. I feel a deep sense of completion in him, that this has given him something he’s needed for an age.

I feel my skin cool where the cold air of the cave touches it. I’m warm where I’m touching him though.

One of his hands finds my chin and he tilts my head up so that I’m looking into his eyes again. So rare to see happiness in his expression. To see it lighten even for an instant was precious.

I’ve never before seen this emotion.

Joy.

His lips are slightly parted. Every line on his face is relaxed, softened. His eyes are deep pools with a sparkle glinting in their depths.

He leans forward and presses his lips to mine. It’s gentle, no urgency, no need or hunger. His lips meet mine and all I feel is how soft they are, how full.

It’s the way you kiss someone you love. Tender, reverent.

I bring my hands up to lightly clasp his face. I kiss him back, putting all of my emotion into the simple action.

Then I inch up and rest my forehead against his.

His eyes and the bridge of his nose are my whole world.

There’s something missing from my chest. I’m so light I feel I could float away and upwards, through the roof of the cave. The weight is gone.

All the worry, anxiety, trepidation. Gone.

I’ve made my decision. To trust him. To be with him. For as long as this lasts.

There are three words I don't say. That we don’t say. The same number of words in either language. It’s not necessary.

Why bother with language when communicating this way is so much more profound. This is natural for him. The normal way for lovers to be together.

To feel our emotions wrapped around the both of us, so intertwined it’s becoming harder and harder to tell them apart.

Then I feel him caress me. Not physically.

He uses his own emotion, deliberately makes it flow along mine. They’re feather-light touches of pure feeling that course along my mind and body.

I close my eyes and gasp.

There’s no way I can return the gesture. I don’t know how. But I try to express my pleasure and enjoyment of the sensation.

He stops after a time. I can sense him smiling at me.

“It was like this for everyone?” I ask. My voice is barely loud enough to be heard. But he’s so close to me he has no trouble.

“Yes,” he replies. “For all elvhen.”

“Oh.” It’s less a word and more an exhale.

If this is what’s normal for him, then not being able to do this must be like a disfigurement. A loss of a limb or sense. As though everyone in this world is unable to see in colour and can’t understand why that’s a bad thing.

The thought leaves me a little sad.

It’s more than that of course. To Solas, it’s more like everyone around him doesn’t even have a soul.

Lavellan’s words. ‘We’re not even people to you.’

_Oh shit._

I try to push the thoughts away, but I know he can feel my unease.

“What is it?” he asks.

I look at him. He’s still gazing at me from only centimetres away.

“I’m thinking. About this connection… about what it means.”

“And what does it mean?”

“It’s something you… he… said. About what it’s like for you. Specifically, how you feel about the peoples of this world.”

I feel his muscles tense. His hand is resting on my side now and his nails brush my skin.

My hands are on his shoulders. I move one up and begin to stroke his ear. It's not sexual, just gentle movements which I know will be calming.

“They are like the walking dead,” he says. His voice is heavy, sad. This isn’t a judgement or pronouncement. “They are empty and still. Flesh and blood that moves and acts, but does not truly feel.”

I sigh.

His opinion is not something I can share in, or approve of. Of course, this ability is completely new to me.  All my life I’ve had to rely on my mundane senses to tell how someone else felt.

_But._

I can’t really say he’s wrong either. I don’t have his experience, his perspective. What’s more, I’m starting to feel as though he could be right, in a way. The idea of not being able to feel him like this makes me panic. It would be a profound loss.

“I’d like to argue with you,” I tell him. “But I can’t. All I can do is ask that you try to see past it. I know you can. I have seen it happen.”

I don’t understand the emotions I feel from him then. An idea hits me that leaves me shocked. If I can’t understand it, then it’s an emotion I don’t _know_.

_Oh holy shit._

“What is that?” I ask.

“You can feel it… good.” Solas says.

Now I sense emotions I know. Relief, satisfaction, joy.

But what I’d felt before had been like encountering a new concept in a foreign language.

He laughs at me and kisses my forehead.

He draws back and says, “Did you believe that there were only so many emotions that existed? Even between worlds?”

“Well, yes,” I say. Of course I had. Or, more accurately, I hadn’t even considered it.

“The range of emotions you are capable of feeling now is broader than you could realise. For a time, they will elude you. Your mind will cling to what is familiar. However, I am certain that as you experience them more often through me, they will begin to seem natural to you.”

“What was it I felt from you a moment ago?”

He moves against me. Shifts his legs a bit, causing me to move as well. I realise that I’m actually cold where my skin is exposed and that we should probably be under the blankets.

Magic would be nice right about now. Some sort of barrier to keep our body heat in. But it’s about as unreachable for me as the moon. I don’t know how to use it. I’m not even really convinced I can.

“To put it into terms you will understand, it is an emotion born out of regret and the desire to change the nature of things. It is called ‘lathal.’”

“Lathal,” I say after him, tasting the word, sounding it out.

It’s an Elvhen word I have to consciously say. It appears that I only know the words that are direct translations of words I am already familiar with.

“You ask me to look past the nature of the men and women of this time, this world. I can try to do this, yes. However, there are concepts that we can never share. This is one of them. How does one describe a colour to the blind? This is no different.”

Again, I feel the new emotion from him. Lathal. I sample it the way I did the word. It’s a strange and wonderful experience. It’s not a pleasant emotion, by any means. But that fact that I can feel and now understand it is almost miraculous.

I’m worried again. How far down this path will I walk before I feel the same way Solas does? How long will it be before this becomes so normal, so natural to me that I forget that anything else was once normal?

Will I look at the men and women I long to meet and be unable to consider them people?

I feel saddened. I remain quiet and Solas does not disturb the silence. He holds me, caresses me with his hands and then with his own feelings.

I breath in, smell him, smell _us_ , and know that it doesn’t matter.

Wherever he goes, I’ll follow. Whatever path he has to walk, I’ll be at his side.

And more than that, I have a deep and abiding longing to _know_ him in every way that I can. To understand him.

It’s one of the few good reasons I could ever give for wanting to drink from the Well of Sorrows… knowledge. Understanding.

_But not a fucking chance am I ever going to risk being controlled by Flemeth._

“I’m cold,” I say after a time.

He squeezes me and then gently disentangles himself from me.

“Stay here,” he says. “I will return in a moment.”

“What? Where are you..”

He smiles at me with humour sparking in his eyes.

“We both require cleansing… once again. I will return momentarily with more hot water.”

_Aha. Yes. I need to wipe myself off again, and I imagine he does too._

He leaves me alone on the bedding and I shiver at his absence. I’m facing the wall so I can’t see what he’s doing, but I imagine he’s heating more water on his rune. I decide not to move, even to try and pull the blanket out from under myself.

I’m not sure if moving will make a mess or not.

Happily, he doesn’t take long.

“Remain still,” he says. “Allow me.”

I whip my head around to look at him. Allow him what exactly?

But I feel a hot damp cloth touch my thigh and I get the picture.

For some reason, this fails to embarass me. I can feel his emotions of course, and most of what I can read is contentment. This makes him happy in a way.

It could be something to do with being able to look after someone. I can't think he's had much chance to do that for a very long time.

This is probably the most intimate thing anyone has ever done for me. Sex is one thing, but it’s all mutual, or should be. He’s wiping the cloth over my skin with such tenderness and care that I feel pressure in my chest and throat. He guides me to move so that he can reach more of me. What could, or should be an embarrassing act has instead become something utterly precious to me.

Again, I’m not sure if this is what it appears to be, or more behaviour related to the lupine side of him. This is similar to grooming after all.

But... no, it’s not only that. I don’t think so at least.

He’s finished. He sets the cloth and bowl aside then hands me his tunic. I sit up and kneel facing him, and pull it on. I shiver at the feeling of the warmer fabric.

“Thank you,” I say.

He’s dressed himself again, partially. His trousers are up and laced, but his upper body is still bare.

I look around and spot his coat, then I pick it up and hand it to him.

Solas accepts it and puts it on. I rather like the way it frames his chest.

“Can you help me up?” I ask him. “I think it’s time I tried to walk around.”

I know he sensed how I felt about what he’s just done. How much I appreciate it. He reaches for me and holds me to his chest for a time. I hug him back. He’s warm. I have to fight the sudden urge to snuggle into him and pull him back down to the bedding.

But it’s past time I get used to my own bloody legs.

“Stand with me,” he says.

Then he gathers his legs under himself and pushes upwards. I cling to him as he does so and push up as well. My legs are strong. There’s nothing wrong with the muscles. Just with my weight and balance.

I’m standing. Holding onto him for dear life while the floor seems to heave under me. But god fucking dammit I’m going to walk on my own. Where’s that supposed elven grace and agility when I need it?

I’m standing on the bedding itself at the moment. My bare feet on the wool and fur blankets. I know the stone floor of the cave will be icy, but I figure I can manage for a while.

He moves away from me and I wobble. But he keeps holding my arms. Then he moves further away. I’m standing. Then he’s holding my hands, ready to catch me if I fall. I’m on my own.

It’s okay. I’m doing well. The floor stops feeling treacherous after a few minutes and I stand and breathe. Then I begin to shift my weight from one leg to the other. I get used to my own weight and balance.

With Solas holding my hand, I begin to walk around the cave. It’s not big, maybe a few metres across but I take small shuffling steps.

_Such a wondrous victory. Walking._

But to me, it is something to be proud of.

I feel better about myself, about my new body. It moves differently but not in a bad way.

It’s also the first time I’ve been out of bed in over a day, maybe two. I decide the Fade doesn’t count.

And… no bathroom breaks.

_Huh. So… not eating or drinking means no need for the loo. Okay, fine. Something else to look forward to. Hah!_

We stop at his barrier. I take the chance to examine it more closely. It’s blocking the mouth of this tiny cave, which itself isn’t large. The entrance is wide enough for one person to squeeze through. It’s actually a wonder Solas found it at all.

The barrier itself gives off a faint hum, like a soft vibration in the air. I can feel it. It makes the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stand up.

Snow is piled at about waist height against it.

Beyond it is a world made of dim, white motion. Snow flutters and whirls past us constantly. But there’s a noticeable difference in the sound of the wind. I decide it’s softer than it has been.

“Yes, the blizzard is passing,” Solas tells me.

He’s standing next to and behind me with a hand on my arm.

I reach out and touch the barrier. It’s firm with a slight give. Otherwise, it feels as though I were touching glass. It’s completely smooth, almost without friction.

I leave my hand there and close my eyes. I can feel something from it. It’s that sensation of aliveness that you get when you touch a water pipe. It’s still, but you can feel that sense of motion below the surface.

I realise that there are channels in the barrier, lines that flow away from it. I move my awareness along them and find them connected to Solas.

_Well, duh._

The experience would have been more jarring and difficult to attempt if I hadn’t become used to the sensation of reading Solas’ feelings. This isn’t altogether different.

And if I can feel that, feel the magic… then…

“How do I do this?” I ask.

I turn to him.

Excitement bubbles inside me. Magic. _Magic._

He’s happy with me, with my eagerness. Amused and approving of my desire to learn. He pulls me against him again and holds me. His arms wrap around me and squeeze me against his chest.

My heart is pounding and the tips of my fingers and ears tingle. Then I feel something new, familiar and unfamiliar, from Solas himself. It’s like the sensation I felt from the barrier, a sense of motion, of power below the surface of him. Not his skin, but somewhere else.

“Can you feel that?” he asks.

I nod.

My chin is resting on his shoulder. He’s so warm and real and solid. I close my eyes and concentrate.

The… power inside him moves and pulses. Then a tingle spreads along my skin. My eyes snap open and I pull away from him, looking down at my arms.

There’s a faint translucent _something_ covering me. It shimmers and flows like liquid glass. It’s a barrier.

I use one hand to touch my arm. There’s resistance. I can’t quite make contact. This feels almost exactly like trying to force two magnets of the same type together. The barrier is repelling me.

I’m filled with wonder.

Actual magic. Touching me.

“You and barriers,” I say to Solas and laugh.

“I am rather practiced at casting them, yes,” he says. He’s smiling, enjoying my own happiness.

“One could almost call them a speciality,” I tell him.

“Indeed.”

“This is incredible! Please, please show me how to do this? If it’s possible? Realistically that is. I don’t know how long it takes to learn.”

“Ah, as to that,” he says and pulls me gently back to the sleeping area. “There is no need for you to freeze while I teach you.”

My feet are so cold they’re numb. I’d stopped paying attention to them entirely. In fact, when we reach the bedding, I realise that I’d walked back here without any difficulty. I’d been so distracted by the thought of learning to use magic that I’d forgotten to notice my balance. And I was fine.

I’d been overthinking it, clearly.

Solas straightens everything. I have a chance now to look at it, and I see that it’s a bedroll, clearly designed for one person. We’d been under wool and fur blankets also only really large enough for one.

He lifts the blankets then sits down with his legs apart.

“Sit here,” he tells me.

_Oh, yes please._

I drop down into the gap he’s left for me and move back until I’m flush against his chest. He then pulls the blankets around both of us.

I close my eyes and enjoy the sensation of him wrapped around me. Of his heat against my back.

This is extremely pleasant. Being held like this by him.

The barrier he’d cast on me had expired before we’d returned to the bedding. But the sense of it remains in my head. How it felt.

“As I have said before, your connection to the Fade is strong. Drawing the power required for a barrier should pose no difficulty to you.”

“But how do I do that?”

“You felt the connection between myself and the barrier I am maintaining, did you not? A similar connection between you and the Fade exists. You are aware of it, unconsciously. I believe you have been aware of it since you awoke.”

I think for a time. Try to understand what he means. It’s not easy. All these extra senses are bewildering and difficult to sort out. To go from existing inside my own head to being able to expand my awareness to include Solas’ emotions. And now magic. It's overwhelming.

But… ‘do or do not, there is no try’. The quote fit perfectly in this situation as well.

I grope around my own mind. Cole had shown me how to find the link between my Fade self and my sleeping body. _It can’t be that different, surely? Just the same thing in reverse?_

But when I do find it, it’s nowhere near the same.

Instead of a thin strand I find a torrent. It seems calm on the surface, but underneath I feel a power that could pull me down and drown me effortlessly.

“How am I supposed to control this?” I ask him in a small voice.

“I told you it was strong,” he says.

His breath blows a few strands of hair into my ear. I brush at the tickle.

“You must learn to understand it. It is always there, a part of you. It is not separate from you. The mages of this world are taught to fear it, to treat it as a danger to themselves and others. They cannot see that they are being taught only to fear themselves. To truly master yourself and your magic, you must be unafraid. Confident, both in your own abilities and in the Fade. Trust it. It is a part of you and will not fail you.”

I rest my weight against Solas’ chest and relax into him, slipping down a bit. I feel safe. As secure as I can imagine being. I’m wrapped up in him, his body, his smell, his presence and his feelings.

Solas. Fen’Harel. Elvhen god. Scholar. Rebel with a cause. General. A man willing to give everything for his people.

He holds me tightly and I know that I can trust everything he tells me in this. Magic is his lifeblood. I can find no better teacher in this world.

“Reach for it,” he says to me. “Trust that it will respond. That it is a part of you, no different from your own hand.”

I do as he says without hesitation. I reach towards the current linking me to the Fade and take hold of it.

Immediately I feel energy, _magic_ pour into me. The Fade is there, just out of sight. I can feel it, feel it’s essence flowing into me. It’s infinite possibility waiting for my will to shape it into anything I can imagine.

And it feels _good_. I feel strong in a way I could not have dreamt. Powerful. I hold it inside me, allow it to flow and find a place for itself.

“What should I do?” I ask.

“Summon a light. It is one of the simplest uses of magic.”

That was… commonplace enough. Every beginner mage I know of, in whatever world I think about, can summon a basic light. A small use of magic but useful in every way.

I draw on some of the power flowing inside me and convince myself that a small ball of yellow-white light will appear in front of me.

“Ah! Shit!” I mutter and snap my eyes closed.

_I’ve made it too bright!_

Floating in the air about a metre away is the light I’d pictured. However, it glows like a high-intensity spotlight.

Solas chuckles behind me.

Frantically I reduce the amount of magic I’m using and the light softens. I may as well have used a dimmer switch.

I squint at it and see spots for a while.

“Very well done,” he says. “Although I think perhaps you overestimated how much energy it would require.”

I say nothing to that. It requires no response.

I stare at my light. I can feel the connection between myself and it. I can feel the magic flowing like electricity between us. It’s drawing power from me to stay there. To exist.

If the Fade is the battery then I’m what... the wiring?

“Is it really that easy?” I ask.

“Yes… and no. Of course, the mechanics of it are fundamentally complex on a number of levels. But you appear to have certain... advantages. Even beyond your naturally strong connection due to the way you came into this world.”

“Ah, advantages.” I repeat. “Care to explain them to me?”

“Well,” he pauses, then continues. “One is that your ability to shape the reality of this world is much more advanced than that of other mages.”

‘You reinforce reality, deny magic a foothold…’ Solas’ own words to Cassandra.

Reality? How real is all of this in the first place? I’d known Thedas wasn’t real. It wasn’t a matter for debate. Is that helping me now?

Preconceptions about reality, about what is and isn’t possible. As a mage, I could, what… disregard reality? Force my own reality into its place?

“How safe is it, to allow my imagination free reign?” I ask him.

“Not especially,” he replies. “If you wish to attempt something, it is safer to first experiment on a smaller scale. See if your ideas work as planned.”

“What are the restrictions, other than that?”

“The nature of reality, of this world, works against you. We call it the Unchanging World for a reason. It resists change, resists blatant violations of it’s natural order. The more unlikely your goal, the harder it will be to bring it to fruition.”

An idea strikes me. “Then what you’re saying, in another way, is that if I try to do things that are more possible, more likely to happen naturally, I’ll have more chance of succeeding?”

“Yes, that is exactly it,” he says.

He’s proud of me, of my ability to reason through this so quickly. I want to tell him how much I know about the magic of other worlds, how much it could potentially help me, but decide that now isn’t the time. That discussion could lead to uncomfortable topics.

“Summoning the natural elements of this world is the easiest form of magic,” he continues. “Fire, ice, electricity… these all occur naturally and so are least resisted.”

“I think I have more advantages than you know,” I tell him. “Basic understanding of science and biology is taught to every child where I came from. And beyond that, we understood a great deal about the nature of our world. About how it fit together, about what was and wasn’t possible to accomplish without magic.”

I can sense the interest in him. His keen desire to know more about where I come from. But he holds it off for now, focuses on what I’ve said and how it applies to magic.

“Yes, I believe you are correct in that assertion. A greater understanding of how this world can be manipulated _without_ using magic should allow you to mimic the results with less resistance.”

“So, for example, if I know that friction causes heat and that even the air itself can catch fire…”

I concentrate and in front of me, next to my light, a small flame dances in the air. It’s about the size of my thumbnail and looks as though it’s attached to an invisible candle.

“And I also know that depriving a fire of oxygen can kill it…” I concentrate again and attempt to pull the oxygen from the air surrounding the fire.

I have no idea if this will work. I picture the molecules of oxygen dancing around the flame, how they’re feeding the fire, keeping it alive. I imagine them all being pushed away from it so that a zone of oxygen-free air surrounds the flame. It struggles and I can feel it drawing power from me to stay alive. But I release it, stop the flow of magic and I feel it go out. Not because I stopped providing it magical energy, but because it can no longer exist without the natural fuel it needs.

“Yes!” I hiss. “There are so many other ways to use that. I could remove the oxygen from the air around…”

And then the thought hits me. I was about to say _people_. I was about to celebrate the fact that I could use this trick to kill.

_This isn’t theoretical. This is real. If I do that, I’ll be killing real people._

“You could suffocate any living thing that requires air,” Solas says quietly. “But there could be gentler uses. If you are careful, you could use it cause an opponent to fall unconscious.”

“That requires a huge amount of delicacy,” I respond. “If I got it wrong they’d die. I’m sure there are other way to knock people out.”

“However,” he says. “It would be a method of killing that requires less outright force. And one that would be exceedingly difficult to combat. If you created a barrier around their head, for example, and removed the breathable air inside it…”

“Solas,” I say. “I’ve never killed anyone. I’ve never deliberately hurt someone before.”

“I had suspected as much,” he rubs my arms and projects reassurance. I close my eyes and take comfort from him.

“There are more interesting and helpful ways to use magic,” he tells me. “Ones that do not harm others. For now, let us focus on those.”

I shake my head. “I can’t avoid it forever,” I say. “This is not a world that allows pacifism. And beyond that, there are things that _need_ to be destroyed. Things like darkspawn. There’s nothing else you can do with them. You can’t take them prisoner. It’s either kill or be killed.”

“You are correct,” he says. “But I believe that, for now, we may focus on magic that lends itself more to defense. In fact, it is essential.”

“I’m not going to argue with that,” I tell him. “So, how do I create a barrier? Any advice? I wouldn’t want to ‘front-load’ it or anything.”

He’s silent behind me for a minute, then says “You’re quoting someone, likely myself to judge from your amusement.”

“I might be," I say.

“Well,” he says. “Regardless, it is a valid concern. I would not want you casting inadequate barriers.”

I chuckle.

“Do you recall the feel of my barrier?”

I nod. I remember very clearly how it felt, how the magic of it felt surrounding around me.

I know that that kind of barrier can protect me from damage. Potentially stop an attack from landing. But I have thought about barriers before. About how they can be used. To me, it has always seemed as though barrier magic has huge potential to be used in other ways.

I think about the barrier Solas had cast on me. Then I attempt to mimic it. A tingle spreads along my skin and covers me. It forces Solas away from me a bit. I’m happy for a moment, then I realise that something’s wrong.

I can’t hear.

There’s absolutely no sound reaching my ears. It feels as though I’ve gone completely deaf.

I drop the barrier in a bit of a panic.

“A good first attempt,” Solas tells me. He’s extremely amused. “However, I believe you should wait for my instruction before your next attempt.”

I’ve always been very impatient when it comes to trying something I’m interested in. RTFM indeed.

We spend the next while working on my barriers. It takes me a few tries but eventually I manage one he deems adequate. He shows me other things as well, ways a barrier can be used to maintain temperature. To ward off heat or cold, or to keep either of the two in.

When I have mastered, somewhat, the barrier to keep cold away from myself, he declares it’s time for a break.

I’m tired after that. I feel drained, as though I’ve been running laps. Or writing a complex essay on something. I groan and slip further down so that my head is resting on his stomach.

“You have used up a portion of your mana,” Solas says. “You will need a short rest to recover it.”

“I have mana?” I say wonderingly. That feels unreal, even though I can clearly feel what he’s describing. When I think of ‘mana’ I think of something blue. I suspect that what he’s referring to in elvhen isn’t quite the same as the mana I’m familiar with. I think when he says it, he’s referring more to magical stamina. But it’s still as good a word as any.

“Yes, you have mana,” Solas tells me. He strokes my hair, pushes a few dark strands away from my eyes. “And you will have more eventually. It is like a muscle, the more you use it, the stronger you will become. And now that you can summon and maintain a barrier to block the cold, we are able to leave this place.”

I’m stunned, shocked to realise that I hadn’t considered this before now. But of course, I have no clothes. And it’s probably far below freezing outside. I’ve been lulled by the relative warmth in the cave.

And Solas has only the clothing and gear he’s been travelling with. No extras.

“How far is it to Skyhold?” I ask.

“Perhaps half a day’s journey, on foot. The snow may hamper us somewhat. I have no way of predicting the path ahead.”

Half a day, at least, outside in this weather. With no clothing. I can probably use the bedding, wrap it around myself. But it’ll be far from enough. I’ll also be walking barefoot through the snow. If I can’t maintain the barrier I’ll freeze.

“Well this should be fun.”

 

Illustration done by myself.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/154220729@N04/28085747398/in/dateposted-public/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay between updates. I went on holiday to Europe. I hope the chapter length makes up for it and that it was worth the wait. :)


	6. A dreaming journey

Solas wakes me before dawn. I have no idea how he knows when to wake up. It must be some eldritch Dreamer skill. We hadn’t done much more after my magic lesson. I’d been tired, worn out from the mana drain and the emotional roller-coaster I’d been on lately. Solas had said we’d both need ‘restful’ sleep for the next day, which had meant sleep without the Fade. I had had no complaints about that.

When I sit up, I see that he’s already stowed everything away. His pack and staff sit near the entrance of the cave, ready.

Oh hell, his _staff_.

I haven’t actually noticed it before. He must have put it somewhere a little out of the way, because I sure as hell would have wanted a closer look otherwise. I stare at the thing, taking in the sight of the weapon of a Mage.

It’s plain and matches his other gear. Dark wood bound in leather, with something like a mace on one end and a short blade on the other. The thing is very much a weapon. It doesn’t look particularly magical at the moment and I wonder how it’s used.

Solas helps me stand up. I keep the blankets wrapped around my otherwise naked body. He’s fully dressed now, which includes his woolen tunic. He looks like he’s about to grab my arm and use it to seal a rift. I chuckle at the thought.

He rolls up his bedroll and secures it to his pack. He has some rope ready and between us we manage to affix the bedding to my body like some kind of barbarian toga. I use a length of rope to tie up my hair.

The whole getup feels bulky and awkward and getting out of it later won’t be easy. I’m also feeling gritty, like my skin and hair are coated in a thin film of oil.

“I would really, truly love a bath.” I tell Solas.

He checks one last knot and then smiles at me. “Something like that can be arranged once we reach our destination,” he replies.

“A better incentive you could not have found.” I tell him with feeling.

Hot water and soap. Oh god, that will be wonderful. But before that, there’s a potentially horrible journey to make.

I swivel, testing my range of movement. I look ridiculous, but it’s better than freezing.

“Are you ready?” He asks.

I nod and then concentrate, feeling for my connection to the Fade, for my magic. It responds eagerly as I summon it to create a cold resistant barrier around myself. Instantly the air feels room-temperature to me.

Solas walks around me examining my handiwork critically. It’s bloody important that I get this thing right. That it works the way it’s supposed to.

After a minute, he nods at me. “It is sufficient.”

Then he releases his barrier.

The snow that had piled up against it slides into the cave, the artificial wall blocking it suddenly gone. I can feel that it’s colder now, but it still doesn’t particularly bother me. My barrier is working.

Solas hefts his pack and shrugs it on. He uses his staff to clear away some of the snow and then makes his way outside.

I take a last look around the little cave. It has been my entire world for the past two days. I’m always going to remember it fondly.

But I follow Solas without much more hesitation.

I’m ready to _see_ this world now. Ready to get outside and explore.

When I step outside, there’s white everywhere. It’s so bright that the first thing I have to do is shield my eyes. Then I look up, past the snow-covered mountain slope and black rocky peaks at the blue dome of the sky.

It’s completely cloudless and such a dark, aching blue. One corner of the sky is still awash with the pink and orange of dawn. The light tints all the snow around me and my eyes begin to adjust. I breathe in the crisp, clean air and stare.

No matter what world you’re in, the sight is beautiful.

“Welcome to Thedas.” Solas says from next to me. He rests his free arm across my shoulders and gives me a one-armed hug. I lean close to him to kiss his cheek. He turns his head and catches my lips with his. Happily, he can touch me through this barrier as it’s designed to repel cold and not physical objects.

I put all my joy and excitement into the kiss. I’m crying. I’m beginning to feel the wonder of it properly. I’m in another world.

He ends the kiss but squeezes me more firmly to his side before letting me go.

“Come Lyrial, there is much more to see yet.”

He pulls away and begins to walk. He uses his staff to test the snow, making sure the path is relatively safe. I follow close behind him.

The going isn’t exactly easy. I’ve never had to slog through deep snow before. Even walking behind Solas in the trail he’s broken isn’t a piece of cake. I’m also wearing no shoes. Yes, I have the barrier to keep my feet warm, but it still makes me nervous.

The crunch of my feet on the snow is novel for a while, until I realise how much work goes into walking in deep snow. Even though I’m careful to place my feet in Solas’ footsteps, there are still many moments where I slip and have to catch myself. Where I misjudge and sink my leg up to my knee in fresh snow. My bare feet give me no traction at all and though they’re not cold, they soon begin to ache.

“Solas.” I call out.

He stops and turns. “Are you well?” he asks.

“Is there something we can do about my feet? They’re not cold, but it’s harder than I’d thought to walk barefoot here.”

He walks back to me and places his staff in the snow between us. “Hold this for a moment please.”

I wrap my hands around the worn leather grip.

Solas bends down and lifts one of my legs up so that he can examine my foot.

His fingers brush my arch and without meaning to, I giggle. It’s damned ticklish. He does it again and this time I _know_ it’s on purpose. I gasp and laugh while clinging to his staff.

“You ass, what are you doing?” I manage to say.

“Acquiring precious strategic information apparently,” he says with a smile. “But on a more serious note, I believe we can remove some material from the sleeping furs and use it to protect your feet. I should have thought of this sooner. I apologise.”

It’s a little awkward but we manage to untie a section of the fur blanket and cut long strips from it. I’m not sure what he’s doing, since it seems to me as though it would have been better to cut a solid section away. But I let him work. He would know better than me.

He kneels down in the snow and rests one of my legs on his knee. Then he begins to wrap my foot in leather with the fur on the inside. It rapidly becomes clear what he’s doing. The familiar, distinctive elven cross-weave pattern takes shape. He secures it with rope. When he’s finished with both of my feet I look down and stare. He’s made something like ankle boots of soft leather for me which protect the soles of my feet.

_God, how many talents does this man have?_

“Thank you,” I tell him. “That's incredible. I can’t believe how quickly you did that.”

“Many years of practice,” he says and stands. “They will not last forever, but should at least see you to the end of our journey.”

In the end, the ‘boots’ aren’t that much better than my own feet traction wise. However, my feet have absolutely no calluses or rough skin. They’re completely soft and smooth. So, at the very least, the wrappings provide some protection.

We resume our journey and I spend half of my time watching where I’m going and the other half concentrating on my barrier. The watching part is hard though. It’s really, really bright out here. The higher the sun rises, the more direct light hits the snow. I’m very quickly squinting down at my feet, trying to keep my eyes on the darker patches of snow where Solas has already been.

The silence is eerie. The landscape is beautiful but still and empty. There’s nothing living in sight. Nothing growing. No animals whatsoever. We’re too high up. Probably. I’m no hiking buff, I don’t know much about climates and altitudes. But from the look of the mountain peaks, this isn’t a place living things are meant to be.

We stop often. I’m not completely used to my legs yet and this is tiring. On one such break, I look up and see that we’ve rounded the edge of the nearest peak.

Before us in early morning splendour, is the vast snow-covered plateau leading up to Skyhold.

The sheer scale of it staggers me. It’s so much larger than it seemed from the keep’s battlements. I can see Skyhold itself, sitting atop it’s rocky vantage waiting for it’s master to return.

Said master has shaded his eyes and is gazing up at it. He’s pensive. Eagre to reach our destination but also worried.

“Do you fear what we’ll find when we arrive?” I ask him.

“Yes, for many reasons,” he sighs. “I tire of finding familiar places ravaged by time and neglect. Of seeing things I once held dear lost or destroyed. Yet, there is no help for it. I must endure.”

I’m not a fan of that word, not when Solas says it. I take his hand and squeeze it.

“Not alone,” I tell him. “Never alone again, not if I can help it.”

I want to tell him that I’ll never let him die alone, but it seems to be the wrong time and place for that discussion.

He pulls me close and embraces me. I’m still getting used to this Solas. The one who enjoys intimacy. The one who’s willing to be comforted by a hug.

“That means a great deal to me,” he says. “More than you could realise.”

I squeeze him and bury my face in the fur of his collar. “I have some idea.”

Determination and love flow out from me. I try to tell him without words how I feel about him being alone. How much I want to prevent that.

He seems to understand. He pulls away and smiles down at me. He’s only slighly taller than me. “How do you feel? Are you tired?”

I am a bit. The mental concentration of keeping the barrier up coupled with the exercise is wearing on me. “I can go further. How long do you think it’ll take for us to reach the keep?”

He’s silent as he scrutinizes the distance, judging. He looks at me and I know he’s considering my pace, my strength.

“We may make it there by mid afternoon, if we continue as we are. Perhaps later with rest.”

I nod. I can do this. I want to get there. For so many reasons.

“Lets get on with it then.”

For all that I was worried about it, the journey itself is uneventful. There’s nothing living up here to trouble us. Not even a mountain ram in sight.

My biggest obstacle turns out to be the wind. I can’t feel the cold of it and my barrier prevents me from losing heat to it. But it’s completely unpredictable. One moment there will be almost none and then the next instant I’m being pushed sideways to land flat on my backside in the unblemished snow. Solas has his staff of course and seems to adjust to the wind without even thinking about it. He helps me up when I struggle. There’s nothing either of us can do about it and I take to walking as close behind him as possible. At least I can grab him to help steady myself.

It’s past mid afternoon when we reach the base of the keep. The last part of the journey will probably be the most dangerous. We have to climb up so that we can get to the drawbridge.

I fall onto a snowy boulder and rest with my head between my legs. I’m tempted to drop the barrier for a few minutes, just to cool off, but Solas has warned me against doing that.

My mana is burning low. I can feel it. It’s an odd sensation, a feeling of weakness somewhere between muscle exhaustion and mental fatigue. It takes time for it to replenish, especially while I’m keeping my barrier up.

Solas kneels down beside me and pulls out a small package and a waterskin. He pours some into his cup and hands it to me. I drink gratefully, truly thirsty for the first time. Then he hands me a piece of jerked meat.

I realise then that I’m also hungry. He’s told me that I’ll only need to eat enough to replace energy I spend. Walking for over half a day seems to count.

I gnaw at the meat, enjoying the salty, smoky flavour. Solas eats and drinks as well while gazing up at the keep above us.

When we have both recovered somewhat, I ask, “So, how do we do this?”

“The hard way, unfortunately,” he replies.

The climb is not easy. There’s a path but the slope is steep and sometimes rather sheer. I go up in front of Solas, tethered to him with his remaining rope. If I fall he has a chance of catching me. And I’m far more likely to be the one falling than him.

We reach the track leading to the drawbridge and I collapse, flat on my back, heaving air into my lungs.

I know he’s tired as well, but he’s also extremely eager to get inside. I climb shakily to my feet after a few minutes.

It’s now late afternoon. We’ve taken the whole day to get here, but we’ve done it. I want to dash across the drawbridge but my legs are having none of it. They wobble as I follow Solas into Tarasyl'an Tel’as, the place where the sky was held back.

The elvhen stonework is still intact, after thousands of years of weather. Something I’ve always found remarkable. I have no idea how it was built, but I can only assume a great deal of magic was involved.

Solas’ back is stiff, his gait quick and sure. His staff taps the stone at each step he takes. I recover a bit as we walk. Flat paved stone makes for a wonder after heavy snow and a cliff-side path.

We pass beneath the barbican and finally enter the courtyard.

_Huge. It’s fucking huge._

Skyhold is in as much ruin as I remember. I’ve never taken much time to examine its state upon arrival before. But I know that many sections are blocked off with rubble and wreckage. Most of which, it seems, comes from later the additions to the keep. No doubt built by the various groups of humans who’ve attempted to occupy it over the years.

Solas looks around with a frown.

I suppose it’s like coming home to find someone’s broken in and started rearranging the furniture and made horrible additions to the decor.

It’s somehow warmer here than it was below. I can feel magic in the air around us. I would hazard a guess that the native enchantments of the Keep are doing it. I know that the Veil is supposed to be thin here, that magic is supposed to be easier. I’m still not sure what that means yet. I haven’t consciously tried to feel the Veil.

I’m sure he’ll teach me that at some point.

Surprisingly, Solas turns right towards the stables. I expect him to want to head up towards the Keep proper, but no. He makes his way around fallen stonework and assists me when I follow him.

We walk around the base of the stone wall and he’s studying just about every centimetre we pass. Then he stops. There’s withered ivy covering part of the stonework here and Solas parts some of it with his staff. He feels at the stone. I can’t see what his fingers are doing but he makes a sound of satisfaction.

A section of the stone in front of us vanishes.

There’s now a dark opening in the bare stone. Beyond it is a short flat section, then steps leading down.

This is a bit more than I expect. “A secret passage?” I ask.

“Far more than that.” He shrugs out of his pack and sets it down next to the opening. Then he props his staff against the wall and turns to me. “I must enter alone for now,” he tells me. “The wards below are attuned to me. It will be delicate work deactivating them.”

I look around, see a chunk of rock not far away and sit down. “I’ll be here whenever you’re done.”

He doesn’t pause to acknowledge this but opens his pack and removes something about the size of a volleyball swathed in cloth.

There's a fluttering in my stomach as I realise what it is.

Solas disappears into the darkened passage, taking his foci with him. I shiver, and it’s not from the cold.

It’s now very late afternoon and the sun has begun to set. I perch on my stone block and look around. Most of the place is recognisable. There are the stables, the stairs leading up to the ramparts. The guard towers, one of which would house Commander Cullen. The stone bridge leading to the main keep.

This is a very surreal experience.

Skyhold is completely empty. And I’m here perhaps a year before the Inquisition should even know it exists. It feels like being somewhere important hours before a big event is scheduled to begin. There’s an almost eerie feeling about the place.

But will the Inquisition ever even make it here? What reason is there for that to happen now?

It all boils down to Corypheus really.

If that crazy fucking darkspawn magister still intends to conquer the world in the name of Tevinter, then what will he do next? But of course he still intends to. That part had happened even when he couldn’t use the orb.

_So… then… what will he do first?_

I sit alone in the quiet and the gathering darkness and think seriously, for the first time, about what I should do next. About what will happen now that I’ve removed the mcguffin around which most of the story revolved.

_No, not a story. Not now. Not for me._

There are some things that can’t happen the same way anymore.

Alexius can’t use his time magic to recruit the rebel mages. Dorian had said that he’d only gotten it to work after the Breach. No Breach, no time travel.

_What else?_

No rifts popping up everywhere causing chaos. No demons wandering through against their will.

_Hmm._

What about the Nightmare?

Theoretically, Corypheus should already have it on his side by now. It was present at the Temple of Sacred Ashes and took the Herald’s memories. Rifts are possible even without the Breach. He’d probably promised it that he’d bring it through.

The Grey Wardens are definitely his. Probably some of the Templars too. Most of his plans will still be in effect. Cause chaos in Orlais. Summon a demon army using the Grey Warden mages. Kill Celene to destabilise the country. I won’t mourn the Empress’ death in the least, not after what she’d done in Halamshiral. But the events at the Winter Palace still need to be stopped.

What about the Conclave?

_Oh yeah, he’ll attack it. He has to._

The Divine will summon all the high-ranking Chantry members to the Conclave. Some important nobles and the leaders of the two rebel factions too. Well, their proxies.

It’ll be a wasted opportunity if he doesn’t attack.

Chopping the head off of the Chantry will cause enough chaos and confusion that without the Inquisition, he’ll steam roll over Thedas easily.

At least the Inquisition will still be formed. Cassandra is probably travelling back to Haven with Varric and Cullen, or will be soon. Depending on how long it takes to travel around Thedas in real time.

Everyone is probably moving towards Haven. Removing Solas’ orb from the equation changes a lot, but not everything.

_So, what now? What do I do?_

Do I go to Haven myself and try to warn everyone?

_Sure, that’ll work. Some unknown knife-ear apostate turning up out of the blue, saying that one of the original darkspawn magisters will attack? Yep. No._

No one will believe me. Still, I have to try, don’t I?

But I’m not a part of this world, not really. I’ve already made things better by removing the Breach and the Rifts from the equation. The Temple won’t explode anymore. Most of the people attending the Conclave will survive now.

_Unless Cory brings along his pet Archdemon. Ugh._

These are probably things I should be discussing with Solas. If anything, he’s the one who’ll decide what happens next. I’m perfectly willing to let that be the case.

He knows what's happening. He has his agents scattered around Thedas feeding him information. He probably talks to them every time he’s in the Fade.

The sun has set and the sky is crystal clear above me. Stars glitter across the night sky, so bright and numerous I gasp when I look up.

All my life I’ve been near a city with enough light pollution to make them hard to see. This sky, Thedas’ sky, looks like black velvet scattered with diamonds. It’s unbelievably beautiful.

I have the urge to climb one of the battlements to get a better view, but I don’t know how safe it is. Or how long Solas will be.

The only sound around me is the faint wind. We’re high enough that there’s almost always wind. Otherwise it’s dark and still.

I summon a dim blue light to hover above me. It makes me feel a bit better.

I spend my time replaying the sequence of the coming events in my head. Going through everything from the moment when the Herald stumbles out of the first rift.

Some time later I hear footsteps from the passage.

I stand and watch as Solas emerges, his own magical light bobbing above his shoulder. He’s empty-handed and smiling.

“You look happy about something,” I say.

“Indeed, there is much to be glad about,” he responds. “Come, let me show you.”

He retrieves his pack and staff and gestures for me to precede him.

“I will seal this entrance after us. None will be able to enter without my permission.”

The inverse of that of course is that I won’t be able to leave without his say-so either. But that’s not much of a concern. Where else can I go?

I walk inside and then turn to see what Solas does next. He touches a patch of stone next to the entrance and letters carved into it light up. They dim before I have a chance to see if I can read them. The darkness is now absolute, but that’s no problem for two mages.

I smile to myself at the thought.

Our lights make it easy to see the details of the passage.

The stonework is smooth and perfect, unlike the rest of the Keep. There’s no dust anywhere and everything is faced with pale, off-white marble flecked with silver. I realise that this must be what the rest of Skyhold should look like. The beautiful stone had probably been stolen over the years. Carted off to adorn some Orlesian noble’s fireplace.

As we descend I notice that the air is becoming warmer. My barrier is designed to block cold, not heat and it’s now a much more comfortable temperature.

I drop my barrier and sigh in relief.

It feels as though I’ve set down a heavy pack I’ve been carrying all day.

“Not much further and then you can truly rest,” Solas tells me. He’s still smiling, still very pleased.

“Why are you in such a good mood?”

“You will soon see why for yourself, you need only have more patience.”

I raise an eyebrow at him and continue walking down the stairs.

There are rather a lot of them.

We must be going deep into the rock of the mountain. This has to be far below the main areas of Skyhold, even the dungeon and cellars.

I have always suspected that there are secrets about Skyhold that Solas never shared. Why would he? It’s more than enough that he’s willing to let the Inquisition take it as a base of operations. He does not need to reveal everything about what is essentially _his_ castle.

The stairs end, finally, at a set of large carved stone doors. One of which is ajar. The carvings are beautiful. Wolves run across stone fields, through stone forests and across carved stone mountains. They’re amazingly detailed and lifelike. I am fairly certain I can see individual strands of fur carved into them. The stone is the same pale marble as the floor, dusted with glinting silver. At the top, halved by the doors, is the head of a huge wolf with six eyes.

I stop and stare.

Solas gives me some time to appreciate the beauty of the carving, then takes my elbow gently and guides me forward. “There will be more than enough time to admire this later,” he says. “I believe I promised you a bath?”

That does it. The thought of soaking in hot water is enough to get me moving.

But when we pass through the doors I stop dead yet again.

Beneath Skyhold is a _mansion_.

The doors open up to a foyer and then on to what looks to be a large open sitting area or lounge. Beyond it are passages leading away and more doors, smaller but just as intricately carved.

The off-white marble covers the floor everywhere I look, small sparkles of silver flickering in the magical light.

And there's furniture. Tables, chairs, divans, cabinets, display cases and other things I can’t name. Mirrors and tapestries and paintings on the walls. The ceiling is high and vaulted and as we stand there magical lights begin to glow from evenly spaced sconces.

The most incredible thing about it all is that despite the air of disuse, everything is immaculate. There’s no dust and no decay.

This has to have been sitting here for _thousands_ of years. I’ve looked at the elven calendar. I know how long it’s been since the fall of Arlathan.

Solas walks forward and casually throws his pack and staff onto a nearby couch. That happiness is still coming from him, but also a wave of immense relief.

“I had no way of knowing whether the magic was still active,” he tells me. “We might have arrived to find a ruin to mirror the one above.”

“What magic?” my voice is hoarse and I swallow.

“Stasis magic. A fairly common practice in Elvhenan, but now a mostly lost art it seems.” he looks around with satisfaction. “For we who did not age, this magic was indispensable. One might leave a residence and return centuries later to find it perfectly preserved.”

“Oh… that makes sense.”

“And is also immeasurably helpful at this moment.” He walks to me and takes my hand. “Come, let me show you my home.”

His home. Solas’ _home_. The whole of Skyhold was his, but this part of it must have been his private residence. Sealed away so that outsiders, or enemies, could not reach him.

He leads me deeper into the underground mansion and talks as he does so.

“Alas, much of the inherent magic I invested in this structure is no longer active. We will have to make do with the small amount that remains. Consequently, many of the comforts I once enjoyed will no longer exist.”

We pass beyond the sitting area into a passage leading away. He whisks me past many rooms and chambers I would have loved to take a moment to see. But we take so many turns that I’m lost almost immediately. Then we stop before a room.

The sight of it takes what remains of my breath away.

It’s a bath chamber, as in the kind of bath a roman emperor would have in their palace. There’s a large pool-sized basin carved out of the silver flecked marble. Steps surround it and there are carved stone seats along one edge made for reclining. Four pillars stand at each corner of the bath, from which soft blue-white lights shine. There’s a large free-standing feature wall opposite the doorway, with wolves carved into it in bas relief.

The walls and ceiling are curiously empty however. I would have expected some kind of mosaic or mural, but there’s nothing but blank stone.

There’s also no water in the bath.

“Um,” I say.

He laughs. “So little faith, Lyrial. I promised you a bath and I shall deliver.”

He turns to face the wall and I see that there’s at least something there. It’s not completely blank after all. There are panes of crystal set into the wall, carved with words I can almost make out. Solas runs his fingers over them and they begin to glow with a soft silvery light.

I’m struck by how technological this seems. It’s magic of course, but the way he interacts with it reminds me of a touch-screen.

Magitech?

Two things happen then, one completely eclipsing the other.

Water begins to rise up from the floor of the massive stone bath. And then the walls and ceiling _vanish_.

Instead of blank stone, I’m looking out at the view from the heights of Skyhold. Surrounding us are the moonlit Frostback mountains, glittering far below. And above us is that gorgeous starcape I had seen earlier in the evening.

The pillars seem to be standing of their own accord. We are, as far as I can tell, in an open-air bath. The light glimmers off of the water swiftly filling the depression and steam begins to rise from it.

I feel fingers tug at the knots securing my makeshift clothing, but I can do nothing but stare for the moment.

When he’s undone the knots at my back he moves around to stand in front of me. He leans forward and brushes his lips across my cheeks. The moisture I can suddenly feel makes me realise I’ve been crying.

“It’s so beautiful.” I tell him.

“Yes,” he responds.

But he’s looking at me as he says it and I grasp that he’s only partially referring to the view and the magic that’s making this possible.

And despite the marvels around me, I blush and look down. There’s very little that can overshadow the wonder of Solas calling me beautiful.

His fingers deftly undo the remaining rope and begin to unwrap me. Then the wool and fur bedding falls from me and I’m standing naked under the stars. He bends down and tugs the leather around my feet loose and pulls it off.

Then, he begins to remove his own clothing, quickly and efficiently and lets it drop with mine. When Solas is nude, he gives me a little push with his hand on the small of my back.

“Come, I believe the water is ready.”

Not only is it ready, it’s _perfect_. Hot but not scalding. As I slip into it my breath leaves me in a long, drawn-out sigh. The water comes up to my waist. I pause for a moment, considering, then drop and let myself submerge.

I scrub my fingers through my hair and then relax. I float to the surface and allow the water to cradle me. I’m looking up directly at the stars. A feeling of utter relaxation and lethargy comes over me. It’s so peaceful and comfortable. The view of the night sky is breathtaking.

There's movement in the water and then Solas is standing next to me. “Is the bath to your satisfaction?”

“It’s beyond anything I could have expected or imagined.”

He brings his arms up beneath me, one hand supporting my back and the other my head. Then he leans down and kisses me.

His lips are so soft and warm. I open mine for him immediately and feel his tongue enter.

The damp heat of steam and hot water envelops us. There is no sound but the faint stirring of the water around us both. I breathe in steam and the scent of him.

We part and I steal the chance to say, “So this is why you were so eagre to get me here.”

He smiles as he kisses me again. I drop my legs and stand, then lean into the kiss with my whole body. His arms wrap around me and there’s nothing but heat between us.

I’m already aching for him. Blood pulses through my centre in time with my heartbeat.

I feel him harden and press into my abdomen.

His arms move lower, hands cupping my ass. Then I’m being picked up. He holds me higher and I wrap my legs around his waist. My back hits something hard and I glance around to see that he’s moved us to the nearest column.

My hands are behind his head, fingers of one kneading his ear and the other pressing his mouth more firmly into mine. I feel him reach down and guide himself so that he’s pressed against me.

I start as I realise that he hasn’t prepared me, hasn’t used his fingers on me. I don’t know if I’m ready enough to accept him.

“I will be gentle,” he says. “I will not hurt you unless you desire it.”

Desire it? I have no idea about that. I haven’t had a chance to think about it, about what kind of sex I’d like. But right now, I know I don’t want pain in _this_ way.

But I feel him begin to ease himself into me. His movement is gradual but deliberate. He gives me time to stretch, to accept him, all of him. It feels like I’m only now truly conscious of just how large he is. And I’m so much more aware of him like this. When it begins to hurt he senses it and stops. He rocks slowly, making shallow almost-thrusts into me.

Heat pricks the skin of my chest, face and back. I’m gasping for air against him, but it’s starting to feel good. So, so good.

Each thrust goes a little deeper, opens me up a little more. I clench my eyes shut and press my face into his shoulder. He's panting, deep lungfuls of steamy air blowing across my shoulder. I gasp each time he moves deeper and moan when I feel him still.

He’s inside me, all the way.

He stays like that for a time, allowing my body to accept him.

He’s so big and I’m so full, full of him. I feel all of him, feel his heartbeat along with mine. I’m wrapped around him, legs and arms. He’s holding me up against the wall but doesn’t seem like he’s having trouble with it.

I open my eyes and look at his face.

He’s flushed, eyes half closed, lips parted. It’s either the heat of the water, the heat of being inside me or both. The tips of his ears are pink and spots of bright red colour his cheeks. I kiss him, feel his lips part for me and slip my tongue inside his mouth. I taste him, feel the heaviness of his breath.

I can feel myself opening to him. Stretching around him. I can tell I’m ready now.

There’s no space to move, he has me trapped between his body and the column.

“Fuck me,” I breathe into his ear.

And Solas is already moving. He braces me against the stone and pulls out, then slams back into me in one swift, fluid movement. I feel the force of it pass through my body into the stone at my back. I gasp, the air leaving my lungs.

My whole body moves with his thrusts. All I can do is hang onto him, keep my arms and legs wrapped around him as he shoves into me.

There’s so much urgency and need in him again. Twice was not enough. He needs more, more intimacy and sex. Needs to fuck me more, over and over again.

I’m almost afraid of him then, of that wild need. But something inside me rises to match it. I want it as badly as he does. Want him. Want it so much that even as he knocks the air out of me with his thrusts, I want more.

“Harder,” I gasp. “More… harder…”

And he does it. He growls and his teeth close on my neck. There's pain as they almost pierce my skin.

His fingers dig into my flesh as he repositions me, giving himself a better angle. I whine for him, at the teeth at my throat, at the hard length of him driving deeper and harder with every thrust.

I can reach one ear with my mouth and I lip it, then suck the tip between my teeth and nibble. I alternate between biting gently and sucking hard.

He groans into my neck and I feel him twitching inside me, already swelling. He shudders as he pulses into me, and I feel his seed hot inside me. But I’m not done yet, not there. He reaches down and begins rubbing me, touching me exactly as I need him to. Then I’m shuddering around him, limbs trembling in his grasp.

He holds me fast to the stone column, then allows us both to slide down until we’re resting in the hot water.

“That was cheating,” Solas tells me. He rests his forehead against mine and breathes.

“It’s not cheating if you don’t explain the rules.”

He laughs and kisses me. It’s a long meeting of lips, deep breaths against each other. He’s still inside me, there still because there’s no room for him to slip out.

“I was attempting to prolong it,” Solas says. “But you put an unceremonious end to that.”

“I didn’t know they were that sensitive.”

There’s a gleam in his eyes I’m not sure about. He leans forward and sucks the tip of one of my ears into his mouth. He pulls on it hard, then begins to bite down gently.

“Shit! Oh shit!”

It’s _good_ , oh fuck is it good. I’m moaning, grinding myself against him. I’ve just come but this is _incredible_.

His hand rises to squeeze and tug on my other ear. His tongue traces the curve down from the tip and he licks upwards, and then scrapes his bottom teeth against the sensitive skin.

I moan. I’m losing it. My ears, my fucking _ears_ , feel better than my nipples. I’m shuddering again, lost in another climax. I clench down on him, still inside me but softening, and he groans.

He releases my ears and presses his lips to my forehead. He allows me time to come back to myself. To breathe.

“They are only that sensitive during intercourse,” he says, and there’s dark satisfaction in his voice.

“Duly… noted…” I try to catch my breath as I ask, “Is it... like that... for all elves?”

“Hmm, I cannot say. I am unsure whether the elves of this world have retained this trait.”

I want to say something like ‘poor them’ or ‘they’re missing out’ but I realise how horribly poor in taste that would be. They’ve lost so many more important things.

He kisses me again and we both hold tightly to the other. That was short, my fault according to Solas and I believe him. I take the chance to explore his body my hands, as much as I can reach. The kisses are long and fervent. His hands roam my skin as well, coming to rest on my breasts and kneading them. But I’m spent for now and I can feel that he is too.

I disentangle myself from him and slip out from between the column and his body. He leaves me as I do and feel a pang. But I want to rinse myself off.

I duck down under the water and scrub my hair again, running my fingers through the dark locks. When I surface I see that Solas is resting on one of the built-in marble chairs at the edge of the bath.

“You don’t have any soap, do you?” I ask.

“It depends on what you wish to use it for,” he says.

“I’d love to wash my hair.”

“Then I believe I can assist you in that regard.” He beckons me over towards him.

I half swim half walk to the edge. He stands up on the chair and gets out of the water. I watch him as he moves to the feature wall and bends down behind it. He stands up carrying what looks like an ornamental silver box filled with bottles of varying sizes, colours and shapes.

When he returns he sits down at the edge of the bath with his feet to either side of the stone seat. “If you will allow me?” Solas asks and gestures to the empty space between his calves.

“You’re going to… wash my hair?” I ask.

“Yes. In fact, I would very much like to do so.”

“Why?” I ask.

I know he can sense my question isn’t one of reluctance. I would love to have him wash my hair. But I’m trying to understand this side of him.

“It’s a part of my nature,” he explains. “To care for you is right, to show you affection by helping to clean you, wash you…”

“Groom me?” I supply.

“Yes,” he smiles and his eyes sparkle in the soft magical light. “You are aware of the custom amongst wolves. To groom each other to deepen connections and form bonds.”

“Yes.” I clasp my arms across my chest and look at him for a moment. “I also know that it’s customary between mates, before and after the actual… process.”

“Ah, yes,” he responds. “That is so.”

He seems reluctant to continue this line of conversation for the moment, so I don’t press it. I sit down with my back to him between his legs. I hear glass tinkling and then something cool and sweet-smelling touches my scalp. His fingers begin to work the liquid into my hair. His touch is deft, light but firm. He’s careful not to pull on any tangles.

“You’ve done this before?” I ask.

“I have washed hair before, my own and that of others, yes.” He chuckles. “What, did you assume I had come into the world bald and remained so for all my life?”

I decide to be a little frank with him. To test the waters.

“In the world I come from, other people know about you. I am not the only one who has witnessed the… visions I showed you.”

There’s silence from behind me but his fingers continue to move. He’s massaging my scalp now. I close my eyes and lean into it.

“The prevailing belief is that you had hair when you were younger. An uh... what we would term a ‘dreadhawk’ hairstyle.”

“Dreadhawk,” he repeats, amused.

“Yes, long braids or thick matted locks of hair, with the sides of the head shaved.”

“At one point, yes.” Solas says.

“Oh.” I’m surprised and it shows.

“I have worn my hair in many ways over the years,” he explains. “Styles came and went. At one point in my life I was eager to keep to what was fashionable. My hair has been long enough to trail behind me if not braided, and cut in almost any pattern or style you can imagine.”

“But the frescos I’ve seen… you’re bald in them.”

“It depends entirely upon which frescos you have seen. And when they were created. Please rinse your hair.”

I’m confused for a moment and then I lean forward and duck my head under the water. I rinse out as much of the lather as I can and sit up again.

“I shaved my head for a reason and keep it that way for the same reason.”

I hear him find another bottle and more cool liquid is poured onto my head. He begins the process again, working it carefully into my hair.

I’m not keen to pry. I suspect the reason is one related to tragedy or some kind of personal struggle. I’m not going to ask.

“I’m not sure how I’d react to you with hair,” I say. “I’m so used to the way you look now. Although… it is nice to finally confirm your hair colour.”

“And how have you managed that?” the sly amusement in his tone tells me he knows how.

“Your eyebrows of course,” I say.

“Only my eyebrows? I know you’ve seen my face well enough to have known that before now.”

“Well, some other body hair may have helped narrow it down.”

“I am pleased to have been instrumental in resolving that for you.” His fingers pause for a second, then he asks, “And how are you feeling about _your_ hair colour?”

“Hair colour isn’t much of a problem,” I say. “I’ve dyed my hair before. And I don’t see myself. If what you’re really asking is how I feel about my body, the answer is ‘good’.”

“I am glad to hear that.” He rests his hands on my shoulders and begins to rub them. The soap on his fingers makes them slide easily over my skin.

I groan and lean sideways to rest my head against his knee. This feels wonderful as well. He stops after some time spent in silence. “I am done, you may rinse your hair again.”

I sigh and slide bonelessly off the marble seat. The hot water adds to the sleepiness and lethargy I’m feeling again. I’m so relaxed I may as well be liquid.

I duck under and rinse the last of this soap out. When I resurface Solas is sitting back on the seat I’d vacated. I float over to him and climb onto his lap to sit sideways. I rest my head against his chest and close my eyes. His arms surround and support me so that I don’t slide off of him.

“Thank you,” I tell him.

I know my love for him is washing out of me and probably wrapping around him. I hope he doesn’t mind too much.

His arms tighten around me and he kisses my forehead. “You are most welcome, my love.”

Heat and love flood through me from my toes to the tips of my ears. I open my eyes and move to kiss him. He responds, kissing me back deeply.

“I love you, my heart.” I tell him.

He says nothing but allows me to feel his own love of me. A love I had doubted the existence of a day or so ago. It does not equal mine, but I have never expected it to. The fact that it exists at all is a wonder.

We rest like that for a time that seems to span aeons but is all too fleeting. We say nothing and don’t move. We simply bask in the feel of each other, in the love and passion and appreciation.

My eyes close and I give in to the drowsiness. I fall asleep enveloped in Solas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of trying to get back to my schedule of updating on Sundays. Missed it by a day. Oh well...


	7. Uneasy dreams

Warm water laps at my feet. I stir, my mind slowly waking as I open my eyes. I’m gazing into Solas face. He’s lying on his side, watching me. We’re both on our sides in fact, tilted at an angle on carved stone. We’re still at the edge of the bath, but he’s moved us to the reclining seats.

His hand rests against my face and he moves it, stroking my cheek.

“Sorry,” I murmur. “I fell asleep.”

“Yes, I had noticed,” he says and smiles at me, his whole face alive with good humour.

I stretch, working out some stiffness. Then I wriggle closer to him and wrap my arms around his neck and shoulders. I nuzzle his neck and sigh.

“Did you sleep too?”

“No.”

“Why not? How long was I asleep for?”

“Only for an hour or so,” Solas says. “And I was far too distracted to sleep.”

“Oh?” I ask.

“I had something beautiful to admire.”

I smile. “Yes, the stars are breathtaking.”

“My love, you know full well that I was not talking of the stars,” he chides and taps the tip of my nose with one long, elegant finger. “You need to learn how to better accept a compliment.”

‘My love’... _ma lath_. Hearing that… warmth and excitement effervesces through me. I laugh in wonder and joy and pure raw emotion.

“I think I could learn to accept compliments, if they come from you, _ma lath_.” I sound out the elvhen words deliberately. I want to feel them on my tongue, feel the shape of them.

I lean into him, feel his heartbeat, his breathing.

His shoulders are broad, his arms lean but muscled. I look down the length of his body and admire his chest and abdomen. I can’t see the rest of him because I’m pressed up against him, but I can certainly feel him.

“My eyes are up here,” Solas says.

I blush and raise my head to look at him. He’s smiling at me still, but there’s a darker gleam in his eyes now. Satisfaction. Pride.

“You’re just so… beautiful,” I tell him. “I could look at you forever.”

“Thank you,” he says. “And that is how you accept a compliment.”

“I will attempt to take your lesson to heart.”

“Please do so. If there is anything I am suited to teaching you, it is how to have more pride in yourself.”

I giggle and press my face into his chest.

“You dare laugh at Fen’Harel?” He asks in a comically threatening voice.

“Only when he makes truthful and ironic understatements.” I poke him in the ribs. “Although if the Dread Wolf continues to address me in the third person, I might mistake him for another anachronistic villain worthy of my mirth.”

“Anachronistic I might be, but I think I should very much resent that comparison.”

“Mmm, come to think of it, you are slightly easier on the eyes.” To punctuate my words I lift my leg and drape it over his thighs. “And on other parts of my body.”

He pulls me closer and his whole body is flush against mine. I feel him twitch against my lower belly. I shiver at the feeling.

“Lyrial,” Solas begins in a lower, more serious voice. “If you know me at all, you know that I am prone to speaking my mind. I do not offer unjustified compliments. I find you captivating. Not only in appearance but also in wit, intellect and personality. I am very much aware that this is not a body you are accustomed to. I know that compliments I give you on your physical beauty do not mean to you what they would to others.”

He uses both hands to cup my face, to angle my head so that we are looking directly into each other’s eyes.

“However, I mean it utterly. You are alluring and enthralling. I wish to know more about you, your world, your opinions and views. I look forward to every moment of it. I want to learn all there is to know about you and discover more together. You are a bright, pure light in the darkness of this world. I have met none like you since the days of Elvhenan.”

There are elements to his words that are familiar. Echoes of what he’d said to Lavellan.

“I feel entirely the same way about you, Solas.” I tell him. “I want so badly to know you, to understand you. To share everything and anything with you. All I want is the chance to do that, to be allowed to remain with you. I never want you to be alone again.”

“Alone,” he says. “You invest a great deal of importance in that word.”

“Yes... because I know that being alone is something you fear.”

He squeezes his eyes shut and then opens them again. Twin storm coloured irises gaze at me and I can see the pain in them. I can feel it too, it’s like an abyss, a void so profoundly deep that it’s effectively never-ending.

Vast across the Veil.

I wrap my arms around his shoulders and cling to him. “If I can help alleviate this in any way, I will,” I promise him. “I will not allow you to be alone, I will not allow you to suffer this alone. You do not deserve this. I will fight with all the life inside me, and beyond, to stay with you.”

I feel like a candle flame defying a hurricane to extinguish it. There’s so much and I’m so small in the face of it. But there’s nothing else I can do. I have to fight for him, fight to help him. Whatever I can do, I will do it.

“And what about you?” he asks me gently. “What about what you wish for yourself? You cannot think only of me.”

“What do I want?” I laugh at him. “Oh _vhenan_ , I have it. I want you, all of you. The mage, the scholar, the rebel. The light and the dark, the man and the god. I want _all of_ you.”

“That is at once far too much and not enough,” he says. “But I am a selfish fool. I cannot deny you. To lose you now would be…”

He kisses me. His mouth fuses to mine. My jaw opens wide as he parts my lips and I feel his tongue caress mine. Every millimetre of skin where we touch burns.

So much is familiar and so much utterly different. I can feel the conviction in him, the certainty. I have asked him to give himself to me and he’s willing to do it. There is nothing to hide between us, no plans or identities. I know all that is important for now. Anything else he chooses to tell me I will accept. I can show him this, tell him without needing words that I am his.

He breaks away from me to speak into my ear, “I will take you as my mate, if you are willing.”

A surge of joy thrills through me. A white, shattering blast of such strong emotion I don’t know how to contain it

“Yes! And I take you for mine,” I say, my words tumbling out. “I love you so much it _hurts_ , Solas.”

“I know, my heart.” he says, using that word. That magical, enchanting word. _Vhenan_. “But you will become accustomed to it, in time. We feel strongly.”

I’m so happy now, too happy. Tears stream down my cheeks and my hands fly over Solas, touching him everywhere I can reach. This man, this beautiful amazing man, is my _mate_.

He lifts himself up and turns us both so that he’s on top of me. Our lips meet again and again and our hands roam ceaselessly over the other’s body. One of his hands reaches down and his fingers part me. I moan into his mouth as he begins to stroke me. He’s so skilled. Even if he could not tell exactly what I need from him, he’d know what to do. He’s the quintessential experienced lover.

I’m so wet and ready that he doesn’t take long to slip two, then three fingers inside me. I squirm on the damp stone, grinding against his fingers. I need more, more of him, more inside me. His thumb brushes me higher and I cry out.

Then his fingers withdraw and he uses both hands to push my legs up and hook my ankles over his shoulders. It hurts, stretches muscles stiff from a day of walking. But I can glady ignore it.

Solas guides himself to me, then pushes inside me in one even thrust.

He braces himself against me and begins to fuck me.

So deep. He goes so deep like this. And it’s hard. He’s not holding back. He slams into me, again and again, harder harder faster. I can’t catch my breath. I’m stretched so wide around him, so open for him.

I’m laughing and gasping and crying. It’s so so so good. Each forceful thrust is like an affirmation, of his reality, of mine. I’m real for him and he’s finally, finally real for me. He’s real!

“You feel... so good. Need you," he groans. "I need you.” Solas gasps above me.

I barely have breath to respond. “Don’t… stop."

Then I grit my teeth and squeeze my eyes shut.

Solas has shifted our position. Moved me so that he has an even better angle. I can feel him slapping against me with each thrust. Hear the smack of our skin meeting again and again. It smells raw and wild. The steam from the still-hot water mingling with our scents to give the air a primal feel.

I grasp my legs and hold on for dear life.

It’s so quick now, so fast that I can’t tell the difference between each thrust. I can feel the slow burn of his passion, his lust. He’s not close yet. His stamina seems endless.

My eyes roll back in my head and I can’t help the climax that takes me. My walls squeeze around him as he continues to move. I’m twitching, the blood pumping inside me. I think I’m squirming under him, moaning and gasping.

He doesn’t stop and I’m so sensitive, but I want more. Still more, more and more of him.

I’m building again. Slower than before, but it’s rising like the tide.

Then he pulls out of me completely. I’m so surprised that I lie there, gasping up at him. But I need him back. He belongs inside me.

Solas lifts me and turns me over. I finally understand that he wants to change position, he wants to take me from behind again. I brace myself against the stone and hold myself there, waiting.

He slips back inside me and I whine at the feeling of having him back.

_Deep. Ah, fuck! So deep!_

He’s focused on me, on his own building pleasure. He feels me and I feel him, the tension of muscles, slick slide of flesh on flesh. The stone is hard, his thrusts harder. In, so long and hard. Moving so fast. He’s there, all there, inside me and against me. I’m burning with need and molten heat.

“Fuck, yes yes yesyesyes!”

His nails dig into my ass, the pain against the pleasure makes me moan. His breathing is raw, hot. I can feel the animal inside him, the wild thing that cares only about taking. But that's not the whole of him, no.

Sweat covers us both. I smell sex and skin and steam. I shove myself back with each thrust, forcing him deeper into me.

He makes a broken sound of need, a whine, wolf-like. Hearing it is enough to push me over the edge. I can’t still my body, can’t stop the trembling.

The heat pours through me, the tension releasing in one swift flood. He’s not done. He’s so close though, I can feel it. Feel it rising, aching through him.

“Come, my heart,” I beg him. “Come for me, fill me.”

And he does.

He growls and forces himself as deep inside me as he can. I can feel him spending himself, feel the wet heat spread.

We’re still then, gasping in the damp air.

The stone is hard against my knees and palms, but my limbs are locked. He’s still inside, twitching with me. He rubs the skin of my backside, stroking me then leans forward and kisses my back. The movement feels good. I’m still on my way down, still sensitive and aching.

“You are everything I need,” he whispers, his voice hoarse. “More. So ready and eager. You are so much more than I deserve.”

My arms tremble and then the strength is gone from them. I fall forward but Solas catches me and lowers me to the sloped stone. He pulls out and I feel the flow of thick liquid after him. Then he’s next to me, his chest heaving with deep breaths. I look at him through lowered lashes, then pull myself towards him. I slide on top of him and spread myself along his body. Then I rest.

His arms come up and crush me to his chest. I place my head on his shoulder and listen to my heartbeat slow, his breathing even out. I’m still twitching inside every so often, still warm and pleasantly aching with the soft burn of sex.

I breathe in, pressing my nose into his skin. Wild and male and _mine_.

Our feelings, our emotions, cling to and wrap around each other. He strokes me with them and I try to copy him. I imagine them as delicate feathers, brushing along his emotional aura.

“Ahhhh,” he sighs. “Yes, good…”

It’s something else he’s needed, clearly. I add more, more touches of pure feeling all along his being. I make them firmer, almost nipping at him in some places. I pull back a bit to look down at him.

His eyes are closed and he’s trembling beneath me.

So beautiful.

His skin is pale and glistening in the soft magical light. The light dusting of freckles on his face, neck, chest and arms is clear against it. He looks soft and vulnerable like this. It makes a fierce determination to protect him rise up inside me. This man has been hurt in so many ways, for so long now. He carries his pain with him, uses it as a lash to drive himself on.

But I don’t want that for him, not any more. He needs love, kindness and healing. And now he’s allowed me the freedom to give it to him.

He's given himself to me and I to him.

Taken. Oh god, _taken_!

Can there ever be a better way to be taken by him? The Dread Wolf has taken me for his mate. I am his mate, Solas’ _mate_!

Such fierce joy bubbles out of me that I can’t contain it. Then I’m laughing and weeping. I begin kissing him, every stretch of bare skin I can reach.

I don’t know what it means in Thedas, to the elves, humans, dwarves and qunari that live here. I don’t know if ‘mate’ is a thing, if it’s the same as husband. I don’t give a fuck. I know what it means to wolves. I know what it means to us.

“Solas,” I ask huskily. “What would happen now? If this were Elvhenan?”

He looks up at me, then leans up so that he can kiss me. I suck his bottom lip into my mouth and nibble it. Then I lean forward so that I’m lying along his body again, and his back is resting against the stone.

“If this were Elvhenan,” he punctuates his explanation with a kiss. “There would be elaborate rules of courtship to follow. It would have been quite scandalous to declare our relationship to each other as we have done. Although, none would have gainsaid one such as I, or objected to my decision.”

“One such as you,” I repeat.

“Indeed.”

He kisses me again and runs his hands over my back. I wrap my arms around his neck to keep myself in place.

“And here is the question of the century,” I say. “Just what exactly _were_ you to the rest of Elvhenan?”

I pull back to I can get a good look at his face. His eyes catch and reflect the starlight but are otherwise dark. Shadows soften the lines of his face. He looks ethereal in the light.

“Once again, my heart, it depends on the time your question refers to.”

“The end Solas. Before you made the Veil.”

He closes his eyes and his emotions swirl. A heaviness settles beneath the love and tenderness.

“At the end I was little more than Fen’Harel. Solas had been all but forgotten.”

“By others?”

He nods. “And by myself. I took the title as a badge of pride, but in the end, I lost myself to it. My people needed me to be a match for the enemies we fought. You cannot face a god, let alone a pantheon of them, without one leading the fight alongside you.”

“So the entirety of the elvhen nation knew you as Fen’Harel, the god? Not the man?”

“Much to the chagrin of the Evanuris, yes.”

“But you were not an actual Evanuris yourself?”

“No.” his reply is quick and curt.

“I’m sorry my love, I don’t mean to upset you. I’m trying to understand.” I tell him.

I kiss him again and he allows me to part his lips and taste him. We stay like that for a time, not talking, until I feel his emotions calm.

He runs the fingers of one hand through my hair and begins to play with a lock of it. He seems to enjoy the sensation.

“To the common folk of the elvhen nation, I was as like unto them as to make no difference.” Solas says. “In their eyes, one god was very much like another. This, I believe, is why I have become conflated with them in the legends that remain.”

“But those same legends still say you were apart.”

“True, but they also imply that I was associated with those now termed the ‘Forgotten Ones.’”

“And you were not?” I ask.

He pushes some of my hair away from my eyes and gives me an enigmatic smile. “Ah, well, as to that… perhaps it is a discussion best left for another time.”

“Oh no you don’t,” I say. “I've been wondering about this for ages now, and you’re going to dangle the answer just out of reach? Nope.”

I move up and prop myself up so that my weight is resting on my arms. I’m straddling his ribs now.

“We’re not going anywhere until you clear this up.” I tell him.

“With a view like this, why should I want to move?” He asks me, laughing. He reaches up and cups my breasts, thumbing my nipples. My thighs clench involuntarily.

“Hey, no, that’s cheating!”

“It is no such thing.”

His fingers play with me, alternately pinching and rubbing. He’s trying to distract me, and it’s working.

“No,” I gasp out. “Tell me! Who the hell were the Forgotten Ones?”

He sighs and his hands drop. Despite myself I sigh.

“Do you think it possible that there were no other powerful beings during the span of the Elvhen Empire? That the Evanuris were the only ones whose power was such that they could be believed to be gods?”

“Well, no, obviously not. The way you phrased that indicates that it’s a ridiculous supposition.”

“Yes.”

He looks at me now, his lips stretched in a slight smile.

“So they were powerful mages in their own right then? Probably as varied in personality as people usually are. I would guess they weren’t allowed to be too powerful or the Evanuris would get into a snit about it.”

“That is certainly one way to put it,” Solas says evenly. “Another is to say that they would hunt down potential rivals and force them into servitude, exile or death.”

_Ah. Right. Lets try not to be too flippant about this._

It’s not just interesting lore anymore, it happened. These might have been his friends.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so indelicate,” I say.

He sighs and I can feel a complicated swirl of emotions in him. Some of which I don’t recognise.

“It is of no matter now, my heart. Some of them truly deserved the reputations history has granted them. Whatever became of the rest, I can only hope they were allowed to live in peace.”

I sit back and rest my weight on his stomach. The heavier mood has made me realise how tired I am. I’m still sore from the day’s walk and now two enjoyable but intense sessions of intimacy with Solas have only added to it.

“You were right, it was probably a conversation that could have happened later,” I tell him. “But, for now, I don’t suppose you have a bed somewhere around here? Or are we sleeping in the bathroom. Not that I mind especially.”

Solas sits up and I slide down so that I’m in his lap.

“Are you asking me to take you to bed?”

I snort a laugh. “Maybe. Although it was _sleeping_ I had in mind.”

“A pity. There are so many other ways we could make use of a bed.”

But he slides us both down the stone until we’re in the water again. Solas wades to where he’d left his silver box and removes a cake of pale green soap from it, along with a beautifully embroidered washcloth. By this stage, my hair has more or less dried, although the steam has kept it damp. I watch him as he lathers the cloth and washes himself.

Bloody hell is this man beautiful.

I walk over and steal the soap.

We both clean ourselves with only a few necessary pauses for the sake of mutual appreciation. Once I’m done I find a set of carved steps leading out of the water. It feels as though we’ve been in this bath for hours. Which we probably have.

I stop and look around. “Solas, love, did you not believe in towels at all or am I missing something?”

He laughs behind me. “Walk through the doorway and you will be enlightened.”

I shrug and do as he says. A tingle flashes over my body from toes to scalp and I start. I’m completely dry. Even my hair is smooth and moisture-free.

“Handy.”

He follows me and we’re both standing in the corridor completely naked. This is becoming a habit.

But there’s no one here but us to see.

“What about your clothes?” I ask.

“They will survive until I have the time to clean them,” he replies.

Solas takes my hand and leads me down the corridor. We walk at a reasonable pace now and I have the chance to peek into the rooms we pass.

I start wondering what he has down here. It’s amusing that all of this is here at all. Fabulous luxury and unseen magic, right beneath Skyhold. Dorian and Vivienne would no doubt have lost their shit if they’d known. I wonder whether they’ll ever be coming to Skyhold in the first place.

“Solas, do you have an Eluvian here?” I ask.

He glances back at me. “Yes.”

“You checked to see whether the key phrase works?”

He sighs. “Yes, however, it does not. I trust what you told me, my heart. I can only think that it is not yet the right time for it to work.”

“There’s probably a way to work out how long it may be before it does,” I tell him. “Do you know where the one who likes to call himself 'Felassan' is at the moment?”

He stops and turns to look at me. “You know of him?”

“Well, somewhat. Not the way I know you. I can’t show you a vision of him, for example. I have only read about him.”

_Let's leave that vague so that it sounds like I read it in a textbook or something._

He’s thinking now. I can see him working something out, feel his concentration.

“If you know of him,” he tells me. “And you speak of him in relation to the Eluvian network, then I have to wonder why you needed to tell me the phrase yourself.”

His expression is reserved now. His emotions are of concern and caution. “Either he will not be able to tell me, because his mission will fail, or there is another reason.”

I can’t help the flutter of regret that takes hold of me when he says ‘another reason’. He feels it too.

“He refused to hear it, so that you could not learn it from him.” My voice is dry as I tell him. Tell him that one of his most trusted agents would betray him.

“ _Fenedhis_!” He swears and his fist hits the wall. “Why? What could  drive him to make such a choice? It’s that quickling of his, is it not? The one close to the Empress?”

“Briala,” I say.

“Yes, _Briala_. His little spy in the heart of Orlais.”

“He loves her, Solas. Maybe not in the way I love you, but it is love just the same.”

He turns to me and I can feel his anger and frustration. And his pain.

“Do you have any idea how important this information is to me? Any idea what it would mean for me to be denied it? They are sleeping where I cannot reach them, Lyrial! Locked behind an Eluvian, inaccessible. To even confirm that they yet live, I must have access to the network!”

My mouth gapes open and I can’t find words to answer him. There are none.

“He knows this. Knows that I cannot reach them as I am. _Felassan knows_ . And you say he will deliberately deny me the means to reach them! For love of a _quickling_ elf?”

There it is. There’s that prejudice I know lurks inside you.

“He hasn’t actually done it yet,” I say. “Maybe you can stop it somehow… you don’t need him to continue with what he’s doing now, right?”

He looks at me and there’s that pain again, dark and overwhelming. He shakes his head.

“It no longers matters. I cannot trust him, not even if I change events so that he has no opportunity for betrayal. I know that he would have.”

“Solas… you can’t punish him for a crime he has yet to commit.”

He runs a hand over his scalp and down his face, then turns so that he’s standing with his back to me, hands clasped behind it. His nudity should have softened the look, the authority, but somehow it doesn’t. Clothing has never been necessary to his sense of presence.

“Trust is essential,” he says and turns around. “Without absolute trust in my agents, they are useless. I must be able to trust them to act in my stead, to choose as I would. A commander has to demand absolute loyalty from those under him. There is no other option.”

“But he…” I trail off, feeling Solas’ growing certitude. He’s made a decision.

“He is one of my oldest followers. He is also one of my oldest friends. But he knows too much, and has already proven that his loyalty is no longer mine. He is too dangerous to be allowed to live.”

My mouth is dry.

I take a few steps backwards and feel cold stone.

His face is hard, brows drawn down and eyes dark. I know that look. The one of judgement. Unassailable and so utterly sure of himself.

“Don’t,” my voice is a sigh. “Don’t do this to yourself.”

His emotions, so tightly coiled a moment ago, swirl around him now. So many I don’t recognise, don’t yet know. But there are so many I do.

Sorrow, anger, regret… but also surprise.

Once again, I’ve somehow managed to catch him off guard.

His shoulders slump and he rubs his face then looks at me. We’re both silent for a while, watching each other.

“What else would you have me do?” he asks.

I shake my head. “Something... anything else, but not that. You can’t keep wounding yourself like this.”

“Are you so much more concerned for me, rather than Felassan himself?”

“I don’t want either of you harmed, my heart. Don’t you understand? You condemn him for something you yourself have the potential for. You too loved a quickling elf, and if you had not, I wouldn't _be_ _here_.”

“That may be true, but it is not his love I condemn, but what he will do because of it. You know that. He is too dangerous. He knows me too well, knows my plans, my strongholds, my abilities. Everything.”

“Just because he refuses to help you with this doesn’t mean he will in turn act against you,” I say. “And apart from that, can you _really_ afford to lose any more of your people?”

_Oh shit._

I want to take the words back the second they’re out of my mouth.

_Low fucking blow._

His face smooths and he looks away from me. He holds himself rigid. I can feel the pain I’ve caused, but it’s muted. I think he’s trying to mask his emotions from me and it’s not working completely.

“I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry,” I say and move towards him. I reach out to him and for a moment I’m worried that he’ll pull away. But he doesn’t. He lets me hold him and returns the embrace.

“I shouldn’t have said that Solas, I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I know.” His grip tightens and he sighs. “But you are correct. In the end, I cannot afford to lose any of them. So too can I not afford to risk my plans failing. If he is willing to deny me what I most need, then he will be willing to take more direct action against me eventually.”

“Can't we do something else? Can’t you force him to go back into uthenera? Or... bring him here?”

Then I’m excited. The idea seems perfect to me.

“Bring him here? To what purpose?”

“If he’s here right under your nose, you can keep an eye on him! You just have to order him to come back, order him to stay here. And maybe he can teach me? I know he’s a skilled mage, and you can’t have the time to spend teaching me, not really. There have to be other things you need to do with your time.”

“No.” The word is final. “Felassan cannot be your teacher.”

“Why not?”

“No one can teach you but I,” he says and pulls away from me so that he’s looking down into my eyes. His face is calmer but there's a feeling of tension in him. In his muscles, his emotions and his expression.

I have no idea what this is about. No one else can teach me? Why the hell not?

“Alright… sure. Maybe he can’t teach me, but there has to be some other way of resolving this.”

“If you know of one, I will listen.”

I bite my lip and think for a moment. I don’t know that much about Felassan. It’s not as though I’d ever had the chance to get inside his head, the way I had with Briala and the others. He’d been as much an enigma as Solas himself had been. Which had obviously been the point.

But now… what can I do? What can I say to change Solas’ mind? I don’t want him to kill Felassan, for both their sakes.

“Will you let me talk to him?” I say finally.

“You?” Solas is not particularly pleased by my request. “What would you say? You cannot tell him where you are from. The fewer who know that secret the better it will be for both of us.”

“I think the important thing here is to understand his motivation,” I tell my lover. “The reasons behind his actions.”

I reach up and clasp his face, feel his skin soft and warm beneath my palms. I run my thumbs along the lines of his mouth and stop at his lips.

“Felassan wishes to give this world and its people a chance. He believes that they deserve the right to fight for themselves. To live. At least, that’s what I believe. Before he… well, before the end, he said to you ‘you won’t like this, but she reminds me of you’ or something very similar. What does that suggest to you?”

Solas sighs and leans forward to press his forehead to mine. “That he does indeed feel as you describe.”

“And the reason he would refuse to know the phrase? So that you could not learn it from him?”

“To slow my plans. He would know that it would not stall them completely, only delay them for an indefinite period of time.”

“So, to give you more time in this world. To force you to traverse it as they do. To see and experience it and its peoples.” I say.

“Ah. And you believe this to be his motivation?”

“Well, it seems likely. He’d want you to experience this world as he did. Hoping, I suppose, that you’d see what he saw. That you’d possibly come to choose differently.”

Solas is quiet for a while.

“And what then will you say to him? Knowing this.”

“I’ll try to get him to believe that I can do it anyway. That you don’t need more time because you now have me.”

He smiles at me. “I see you have found some self confidence, my heart. To much such a claim… bold indeed.”

I wave my hand in the air, denying it. “Oh no, no. It doesn’t have to be true. We just need to make him _think_ it’s true.”

“To what eventual end?”

“To make him choose differently. Or give him the chance to. Look, I know you believe free will and choice matter, that they’re vital. He needs to make this decision, actually _make it_ , then you can decide what to do with him.”

“Manipulating him into a decision that is favourable to me is not exactly the same as him making such a choice freely. But I concede your point. At the least, it will be interesting to see his reaction when I tell him that you are my mate.”

I laugh and suddenly my mood is much lighter. “Oh yes, that will be interesting. Although, you know Solas, technically Felassan succeeded.”

“How so?”

“He forced you to live in the world, be a part of it. Doing so, you met people, formed bonds and had conversations that seemed enlightening to you. And you met her. Fell in love with her. Overall, he succeeded better than I think he could have imagined.”

“That is true, from a certain standpoint.”

I snort at him. “Oh come now, you know it’s true from any standpoint. The fact is, I doubt I would be here if it were not for what Felassan did.”

“We do not know that.”

“No, but we can’t prove it’s not true either.”

He blinks down at me, then smiles and embraces me again. He’s warm and his skin is soft and smooth. I press my face into the crook of his neck and breathe in his scent.

“I am unused to being questioned so,” he tells me. “I cannot say I enjoy it, but I also do welcome it. Sometimes, it is very difficult to take a step back and examine your own choices. Especially when you are accustomed to having to make them with certainty.”

_Hold on a moment._

Did I just… convince Solas to spare the life of a once-loyal agent who had betrayed him? Exactly as the Herald would, or had, convinced Leliana to spare the life of her agent?

Doing so started Leliana on the path to realising that she could be something else. That she did not need to let her position and responsibilities influence her choices. That she could listen to her heart.

 _Have I_ _just_ _done that for Solas?_

I have a moment of dislocation and close my eyes. This is complicated, far more so than I want to address at the moment. I feel like I’m using the experiences and lessons the game has taught me, inside it’s world. In a real, all too physical version of it.

_I don’t want to fucking think about this right now._

“What is the matter?”

I sigh, and think of another topic. One that should hopefully be easier and more straightforward.

“Why are you the only person who can teach me magic?”

He sighs. Long and drawn-out. “It is something I have been meaning to discuss with you, but I have been uncertain of your readiness to do so.”

“Why would I have to be ready to talk about it?”

I pull away from him so that I can see his face.

He lets his arms hang at his sides and looks at me for a time before answering.

“I do not wish to overwhelm you further,” he explains. “I am well aware that many of the situations you have experienced have distressed you to a degree. I have not pressed you for that reason.”

“Ahh, I see.” I clasp my arms together over my stomach. “And you think that whatever this is will upset me as well?”

“I believe so, yes.”

I sigh. “It’s fine, tell me. I feel a lot better in general than I did a day ago. Besides, if it affects me learning magic in any way, I want to know. Magic is something I’ve always been passionate about.”

He smiles at that. “As have I.” He pulls my arms free and clasps my hands. He seems to consider his words before finally asking, “What does the Veil feel like to you?”

“What?” The question seems a bit left-field to me. “What does the Veil feel like? You haven’t shown me how to feel it yet, so I don’t know.”

“Lyrial, no mage needs to be taught how to feel the Veil, they simply _do_. The same way no one had to teach you how to feel the pull of this world.”

_Pull? He means gravity. Okay… but that makes no sense._

“Try,” Solas says. “Attempt to feel it and describe it to me.”

“Alright.”

I close my eyes and reach out towards the Fade. As far as I know, the Veil is like a giant invisible barrier that keeps the Fade away. It also limits a mage’s ability to draw power from it. It’s everywhere and constant.

So I look for something like that. Something between the Fade and myself. It feels like groping around for something lost in the dark. The Fade is there, my connection to it is there. My other new senses are there, telling me that Solas is watching me expectantly.

But nothing else.

I open my eyes and stare at him. I must be missing something.

“I don’t understand.”

“And nor do I,” Solas says. “This is patently impossible. All mages feel the Veil because the Veil affects all mages. There are no exceptions, or shouldn’t be.”

What he’s saying hits me. Hard. The strength goes out of my legs and I collapse but Solas catches me.

“Shit shit shit shit shit.” It’s a continuous litany. I can’t seem to stop. Solas is holding me tightly. My eyes are squeezed shut and I finally say, “I don’t want this.”

“I know,” he says. “If I could take it from you, I would my heart. But such a thing is impossible.”

“ _This_ is fucking impossible,” I snap. “Why the fuck can’t I feel the Veil?”

I’m not angry with him and he knows this. Being able to feel what the other person can feel and understand it seems to help with arguments.

“If I could tell you, I would. Knowing the how and the why of it would be… valuable, to say the least.”

This is terrifying, for more reasons than I can even think of clearly at present. I can’t feel the Veil. It’s not affecting me. I can draw on the Fade as though it didn’t exist.

My mind can’t help but run around in circles. Most of what I think consists of ‘not fair, I don’t want this, it’s impossible’ and little else.

“And here is one more example of why you are so much more than you appear to be.” Solas tells me softly. “Where most in your position would only see this as a thing of opportunity and exult in it, you see the broader picture. You see the dangers of your position, the ramifications of it. You see the consequences of what this means for you. And beyond that, this terrifies you. Why?”

“Because,” I say, voice dust-dry. “It’s a responsibility and… it could turn me into something I don’t want or like. I’m scared of becoming a… a monster. I’m scared that I’ll like power too much, that it’ll make me lose sight of what’s important to me.”

“All worthy fears,” Solas says. “But what would this make you responsible for?”

“If you have the power to do something no one else can, if you are the only person who can do something, you have to, right?” I laugh bitterly. “Solas, you’re the poster-boy for this. I know I don’t have to explain it to you. But just so you know, I’m not the kind of person who could walk away. Even If I wanted to. I’d have to do something if I knew I could.”

“Has it occured to you,” he says. “That you fell in love with me because of how much of yourself you saw in me?”

“Shit.” I sigh. “Of course it has. I know we’re similar in some ways. And in others, I’ve deliberately tried to be so that I could get closer to you. But we’re not the same. There are things we disagree on. Opinions we’re not going to share, just as there are many we will.”

He nods against me. Then he says, “You do not have to fear that your power will corrupt you. For one, it will be some time before you can even make use of it. You do not have the mana capacity to utilise it at present. And another, the mere fact that you are concerned about it will help. And I am here, with you. You are not alone.”

“Thank you.” I feel such intense gratitude that the words are hopelessly inadequate, but he can feel it. Feel what words alone cannot convey. “Can we please go somewhere else? I also think I’d like a drink of something hot. It would help me feel better about all of this.”

“Of course.” He strokes my hair for a moment before pulling away and gazing down at me. “Life has certainly become more interesting since you awoke beside me,” Solas tells me.

“Oh shit, yes, for you and me both.”


	8. A dream of comfort

I know it doesn’t take long, but the rest of the walk through Solas’ mansion seems to stretch on. I’m now so drained and tired that my eyes keep slipping shut. But at the same time I’m completely wired and stressed.

Finally, we stop next to a closed door.

We’re standing in another passage of that lovely pale stone. Plush forest green carpeting runs the length of it and my feet sink into it beautifully. The passage itself is fairly empty, but a path has been worn in the carpet. Clearly this is a section of the mansion he’s frequented often. The one difference in this section is the colour of the magical lights. Here, they’re a warm yellow-white and do a good job of mimicking candle light.

Out of all the possible things I could find unsettling about Solas’ home, it’s the silence that I begin to notice. Unless it comes from either of us, no sound exists in this place. Absolute silence is not something I’m used to. But then again, with Solas here, it’s easy enough to focus on him and put anything else out of mind.

We’re both still naked of course, but I’m starting to disregard this. The temperature is completely comfortable and leaves me at ease in my own skin. As for being embarrassed about it? Well, that ship has long sailed.

“Please, go inside and make yourself at home,” my lover tells me. “I will return shortly with something to drink, as you requested.”

Solas is perfect in the soft light. His skin is warm and gleams cleanly over the lines of muscle on his frame. I lean forward towards that beautiful face and kiss him, then nod. He smiles and me and leaves without another word.

I’m left standing alone outside the door. To his bedroom. _His_ bedroom.

Equal amounts of nervousness and delight fill me and momentarily overrule the exhaustion. I reach for the door handle and push it open.

Yellow lights like the ones outside come to life as the door swings wide. I enter and look around.

It’s not an especially large room. A decently sized bed, larger than a double at least, takes up most of the space. Some plain, if beautifully crafted, furniture is placed here and there. Everything is made of a dark wood and gleams in the light. The bed is not a canopy, which surprises me. I suppose I assumed that all fancy beds in a quasi-medieval setting would be. But of course, everything here is from a different time and culture altogether.

I ignore the bed for the moment, because I know I’ll come back to it, and walk around. The carpeting is here was well, dark green and plush. I wiggle my toes in it and sigh in appreciation.

Solas doesn’t appear to use this room for much other than sleeping. There’s a small table, an armoire of sorts and a few shelves displaying some decorative objects. A vase painted with beautiful lines that remind me simultaneously of trees and water. The skull of some _thing_ I have no name for, with a long crack across the cranium. A small roughly carved wooden figure of a wolf. I’m sure they all have meaning and I leave them alone. I might ask him later.

His smell is everywhere, and his presence. I’m in his private space, his personal sleeping area. I know wolves don’t den unless pups are involved, so they don’t really have the sanctity of a permanent living area. Even so, being here now, being welcome is… exciting. I’m somewhere no one else has been apart from Solas.

Two closed doors, one opposite the bed and one across from the main doorway, lead elsewhere. They look somehow like they’re internal doors, possibly closet or wardrobe space. I ignore them and finally turn my gaze to the bed. Two small tables flank it but one side is distinctly… unused. The other side has a pile of haphazardly stacked books next to what looks like a lamp made of crystal. A porcelain cup rests on a saucer. Some other objects I can’t name are scattered on the surface. It’s obvious that the furnishings on the empty side are more for the sake of symmetry than purpose.  

The bedding on Solas’ side also looks distinctly slept-on and has the look of a bed that wasn’t made up after the previous night. There’s a slight depression in the duvet made by a sleeping body.

The bedding itself is smooth and very soft. The colours are brown, green and dusky gold. Solas definitely has his favourite shades.

I run my hand over the depression in the duvet and pause when I notice something. I had a cat, before, so seeing animal hair on a bed isn’t out of place for me. And there’s hair on this bed. Long dark strands with pale roots. I pick a few up and hold them on my palm.

No mistaking it. Wolf fur.

I shiver. Wonder, delight and _anticipation_ fill me _._ This is the first real evidence I’ve ever seen that Solas can transform himself.

Feeling a little giddy, I walk around to the other side of the bed, still clutching the hairs. It’s probably a bit weird, but they feel precious to me.

I pull the duvet loose and climb in, then wrap myself up in it and lie down.

Oh god, being prone on a comfortable bed is wonderful! I close my eyes and stretch out, luxuriating in the soft sheets and mattress. I roll closer to his side of the bed and press my face to his pillow. His smell covers the bed, as though he really had slept here the night before and not thousands of years ago. I pull the pillow closer and hug it, breathing it in.

The sound of Solas clearing his throat makes me start. I sit up and stare at him and my cheeks warm.

“I see you took me at my word,” Solas says with a soft laugh. “I’m glad to see you so at ease.”

“Mmm,” I say and replace his pillow. He sets a silver carafe on the bedside table, along with two silver cups and climbs into the bed and under the blankets. And then his arms are around me and his mouth on mine.

Everything is so soft. The bed, the blankets, his lips. Solas doesn’t press me for more than that, feeling my need for reassurance and not sex. I melt into it all and try to relax.

He holds me and kisses me and I do, or start to. So much of my life is now filled with wonder and stress. So much to be happy about, to love and marvel at. And then so much to fear and worry over. My being in this world isn’t going to be fun, or easy. I know that. But it wouldn’t be too much to ask for a day of relative peace. A day where nothing urgent or terrible happens.

His fingers stroke along my back. His body is broad and warm, lips silken. I breathe his breath and smell and taste him. He really is my refuge. If I’m with him, it’ll be alright. I can manage. If I’m with Solas.

When we part he gazes at me with palpable adoration. It’s enough to make me blush again.

“The sight of you in my bed entrances me, my heart,” he says. “But then again, it is in fact _our_ bed. Not mine alone.”

“Our bed?” I repeat wonderingly.

“Yes, as this room is in fact ‘our room’, as this place is now ‘our home’. For however long we remain.”

I melt inside. Until this very moment, I haven't realised how much it’s been bothering me not to have a home. I’ve been adrift and unsettled. It’s not something I like, being the introvert that I am. I need the refuge of a place that’s mine. And now, Solas is sharing _his_ home with me. It’s more than moving in with a boyfriend. This is an intensely private person. A man with all the secrets in the world to keep. There’s a level of trust in this that takes my breath away.

“You know _exactly_ what to say to make my heart beat faster,” I tell him. “I love you more than words can say. I only hope I’m worthy of this.”

“It is not much,” Solas says. “But it is what I have to give. In another world I could give you so very much more.”

“I don’t want you in another world, my heart. I want you here. Always.”

He touches my cheek and moves his hand up to my ear. I close my eyes as the tips of his fingers trace along it to the pointed tip. When I look again his gaze is filled with hunger and a complex mixture of longing and satisfaction. His full lips are slightly parted and I give in to the urge to lean up and kiss the dimple in his chin. I fold my arms around his neck and shoulders and press against him. I pull my head back and look at his face again. The lines of it are drawn up now into a smile. I’ve stared at this face before, for long periods of time. I’ve memorised the angle of his eyes, the shape and curve of his nose, the slant of his cheeks and jawline. There are lines of wear in it, signs of hardship and loss but for the moment they’ve been softened.

We don’t need to speak. The constant flow of emotions between us tells both of us all we need to know. I still default to words most of the time as they’re all I’ve known up till now. But an almost imperceptible change has taken place inside me. What was initially strange and miraculous has become the norm for me. The confirmation of what I’d always suspected delights me constantly. He’s so very passionate. His feeling are deep and burn within him. Their warmth is so real to me that I can almost feel it on my skin, especially where I’m touching him.

“I believe a nicer ambiance might be called for,” Solas says. “Though there is no longer enough magic to have it in every room, I may yet activate it here.”

A pulse of power spreads from Solas. He makes no movement, but I can feel it. The lights dim but are replaced by a soft silvery light. I look up and once again see the diamond glitter of the Thedosian stars above us. The illusion from the bath is duplicated here. The bed stands beneath an open cloudless sky.

“Oh.”

Solas laughs then kisses me again and reaches for the cups. He hands me one then snags the carafe by it’s slender handle.

The cup is far lighter than I thought it would be and it’s gleam is somehow _too_ shiny. It’s carved so intricately that at first I think the carvings are abstract designs. But when I look closely I can see hundreds of tiny wolves cavorting in a forest.

“Silverite,” Solas says as he begins to pour a steaming, sweet-smelling liquid into my cup. I hold it carefully upright so nothing spills.

Silverite. Thedas’ answer to mithril. Bloody hell.

When he’s done I sniff the hot liquid. There’s a spicy, citrusy full-ness to the scent that makes my mouth water. It’s fruity and definitely alcoholic.

“What is this?”

Solas answers as he fills his own cup and sets the carafe aside. “A wine, of a sort. Served either hot or cold. Made from a fruit which grew in the region now known as the Arbor Wilds. It is… was… a favourite of mine. It’s my hope that you will enjoy it as well.”

Was. This is from Elvhenan. I’m holding a cup of something made thousands of years ago by people who are likely dead and gone to dust.

“This is precious,” I say. “Are you sure you want to waste it like this?”

Solas chuckles. “Waste it? I can think of no better person to share it with. For you, it will be a unique experience, something you can remember and summon in the Fade if you will it. For me, it will be a sharing of something I loved with the woman I love. How could that ever be a waste?”

My throat closes with emotion. I swallow and sigh. Then I take a sip.

It’s hot, not quite hot enough to burn me, but just on the very edge of my tolerance. Then a sweet, spicy flavour floods my mouth. It’s _delicious._ Mangoes, peaches and oranges all blended into something familiar yet completely new. The flavours are heady yet subtle and nearly mask the potency of the alcohol itself. It’s strong. I can tell that much. But I take a large sip, nearly a gulp, then sit with my eyes closed enjoying it.

“God, it’s true. You really _do_ love sweet things.” I say after a moment.

“True? You were uncertain? Then, yes, I most assuredly do enjoy the taste of something sweet.” He says with another laugh.

I look at him.

He’s reclining against the headboard, one arm draped casually over a knee while the other cradles his cup against his stomach. The starlight gleams on his skin and the silverite. It’s a beautiful pose, one I’d love to draw, or paint. The very portrait of indolence.

I wiggle my way to his side and lean against him, sitting partially upright. He wraps his free arm around my shoulders and we sit together for a time in silence.

As my cup grows lighter heat begins to pool inside me. Spots of warmth blossom on my cheeks. The drink is having a definite effect on me but it’s also chasing the last of my tension away.

“This probably isn't the best habit, right? Drinking in bed?” I say.

“I don’t know about you, my heart, but I have indulged often enough.” Solas responds.

“I suppose I just have to try not to spill.”

“That would be best, yes.”

I smile, then I pluck some hair off the bedding with my free hand. “Solas, did you know the bed is covered in wolf hair? Were you shedding the last time you slept here?”

There’s a moment of silence, then Solas laughs. It’s a full laugh that comes from deep in his chest and rolls over the two of us. I join in and we’re both laughing uncontrollably while trying our best not to spill our drinks.

I decide it would be easier to do that with an empty cup and finish my drink off in two gulps.

“If I had been shedding, it would be far more noticable. Does it bother you?” He asks.

I shake my head. “Of course not. If anything it’s… exciting.”

He squeezes me then kisses my cheek. Then his mood dims a little and I feel a seriousness take hold of him.

“My heart, there is something more I need to discuss with you. But it is nothing so dire as the last topic.” Solas says. “It is more of a proposal, for a course of action. It’s not something that I require of you, merely a possible solution to a problem we both face.”

I sigh. “Sure, why not? Before we start though, may I have some more?”

He refills both our cups and we sit more or less as we were, somewhat upright leaning against the headboard.

Solas holds me loosely against his side and I wait for him to collect his thoughts. Wait to hear what he has to say, and pray that it’s not something more to stress about. His hesitancy is somewhat endearing. He’s thinking of me and how this will affect me, that’s obvious.

“As you mentioned earlier, there is not sufficient time to instruct you. Whatever happens next, we cannot afford the years it would take for you to properly learn how to use your magic.”

“Oh.” I say. “Yes… that makes sense.”

“To add to that is the need for you to learn how to fight, how to defend yourself and attack an opponent successfully. Unfortunately, this is not a world where it is wise or safe to exist without the skills of a warrior.”

I stay quiet and wait for his point.

“We simply do not have the luxury of time. Which is why I believe you should bargain for the knowledge.”

This takes me by surprise. Of all the things he could have been leading up to, I wasn’t ready for this.

“Bargain? How? With whom?” I ask.

“I am well acquainted with a spirit of Learning who will be willing to trade with you,” Solas explains. “It is old and will possess much magical knowledge that will benefit you.”

_‘Possess’. He just had to use the word ‘possess’._

This makes me all kinds of uneasy.

“Please don’t take this the wrong way, but is that safe?”

“It is in no way a malicious spirit and will be far more interested in the knowledge you possess than in possessing you. Yes, it is safe.”

“But how does that… work?” I ask. “Can it really just make me a trained mage so easily?”

Solas shifts in the bed and takes a sip of his wine. “Any knowledge you gain from it will be theoretical, to a degree. It can give you the knowledge of how to safely use your magic, the correct forms to use when casting and most importantly, what not to do.”

“And how will that help me in a fight?”

“It will not at first, but it is a much more solid foundation upon which to build your own skills.”

So the spirit of learning will shove knowledge and understanding into my head. Theoretical knowledge with no practical experience. Still, it's far, far better than nothing.

A scene from a movie pops into my head. I suppress my desire to say ‘I know mage-fu’ as Solas will most certainly not understand the reference. Of all the things this could be similar to, it’s the Matrix I think of. Uploading and downloading knowledge. Nothing like this will be free though.

“What would I have to trade for knowledge of magic?”

“Something unique, something that is of equal value to you. You have a distinct advantage in this deal, as you possess something no other being does. Knowledge of a another world.”

“But it has to be important to me? I can’t trade just anything?”

Solas is uneasy. He begins to stroke my arm. He doesn’t like asking this of me, but he clearly sees no better alternative. This kind of proposal must be different for someone like him. Someone who has thousands of years worth of accumulated knowledge to trade.

“Yes, what you give must be as important as what you gain. In essence, the spirit will not care about the specific knowledge you choose to trade. Anything you give it will be unique, which is what is important to it.” He sips his wine and continues. “But the cost must come from you. You cannot trade unimportant information for something so vital as magical learning. You must be willing to give up something equally as important to you.”

Something as important to me as learning magic. What can possibly compare? What do I consider as important? I’ve _always_ loved magic. When given the choice, I choose to be a spellcaster in every setting. The idea of living without it in a world where it exists is painful to think about. Magic is a manifest miracle. Being able to use it is something I already cherish second only to Solas himself. Learning how to use it properly? Well, honestly, that knowledge would be invaluable.

So what do I know to compare to _that_ ? What knowledge from my previous world is _as_ important to me. As essential as this will be?

Well, there _is_ something.

My hands twitch as I consider it. I tighten my grip on the silverite cup and think about it. _Will that be enough?_

“What have you thought of, my heart?”

“The closest thing to magic I could do in my old world.” I close my eyes and sigh. “My ability to create art.”

Art is my passion. I cannot imagine a world without it. I’ve been drawing for what seems like all my life. It has been my refuge, my comfort and a constant source of inspiration for me. When other kids spent their time playing sports I’d be there making lines on paper. The _only_ thing I can think of that would be better is magic.

The surprise in Solas is clear to me. “You are an artist?”

“Professionally, yes.” I reply. “Although, it’s probably not a kind of art you’re familiar with. For work I designed advertisements but for myself I painted pictures of my favourite people. It was my own kind of magic. My way of making something that didn’t exist, real. Even if only as paint on canvas.”

I am not going to try and explain digital art to Solas. It would necessitate me explaining computers, electricity… all of those fun things I’m not familiar enough with to do justice to.

“I… have not thought to ask you of your previous world,” Solas says. “In part because I feared it would upset you. But I confess that it did not occur to me to speak of it. It is an oversight I must apologise for.”

I drain the last of my fruity drink and hold the cup between my fingers. Then I snuggle further down into Solas’ side and sigh.

“I’m not upset, my heart. I haven’t bothered to mention it because it really has been the farthest thing from my mind, until now. It’s not easy… to think about, or understand.”

Solas rubs his palm up and down my arm and doesn’t speak for a time. Then he plucks the empty cup from my hand, drains his and sets them next to the carafe.

“Are you sure of this? That you would be willing to make such a deal? You will lose whatever you trade with.”

_Oh, well, shit. Okay. Fuck._

I’ll lose it? It’s not enough that I’ll be giving away everything I know, but I’ll lose it completely? I go cold inside. Another thing to lose, another thing that takes away from the person I am. I’ve lost my world, my body… everything and everyone I know. There’s a rushing in my ears as panic flares inside me. Thinking about it, _really_ thinking about it engulfs me in loss.

Lips press against my face, my cheeks, mouth and forehead. Solas is holding me and I’m shaking.

_No no no no no. Don’t think about the rest. Not now. Think about the good things. Push it aside, don’t look. Don’t feel. Focus on him. On being with him. On having magic and being in a world with elves and dragons. I can deal with it. I can get through this._

“I will not force you,” he whispers to me. “If you do not wish to do this, then so be it. We will find another way.”

“What other way is there?”

His silence is telling. This is the answer he’s come up with. The only one he can see that will work. He’s right in every way. I need to know how to use my magic, how to fight. Images of darkspawn and red lyrium infused monsters play themselves out in my head. But still. Can I do this?

“I can’t think of anything else I value as highly.” I say into his chest. “And in the end, losing this won’t really affect my day to day life. But how many pieces can I lose before I’m no longer able to recognise myself?” I shift against him and close my eyes. “This will not be easy for me. Most of my identity is tied to my art. I cherish my skills. I worked very hard for them. They've given me my livelihood and even helped me make friends and connect with people.” I sit up and look at him, hold his blue-grey gaze with my own. “Solas, painting was the closest I could come to touching _you_. I used my own hands to make you real for me when I had no other recourse.”

Solas sighs. “I understand. Sometimes the only way to touch what you cannot have is to give it form another way. I too, have done this. It is a way to ease the pain.”

He pulls us both down to a more comfortable position and wraps his arms around me. I bury my face in his chest again.

Solas is conflicted about this. He doesn’t want to force me but he’s also certain that I need to do this. I know he won’t make this decision for me. Whatever happens, he’ll let me choose for myself.

“Lyrial, if you decide to do this, know that I will teach you everything I myself have learned. Though, it will not replace what you give up, it may come close." 

His words ease my anxiety. I smile, thinking of Solas’ beautiful frescoes. It hits me that no matter what I choose, I won’t be giving up my knowledge forever. I’d been thinking about this in the sense that it’ll be permanent. But that’s far from the truth. I’ll lose the things Solas doesn’t know. Everything about digital art for instance. But how much use would that be to me here?

All in all, it may not turn out so badly. I’ve been ignoring the fact that my ability to draw and paint has already been partially taken from me. I have different hands. Hands that don’t move the way I’m used to and no longer have the same muscle memory. It’s very possible that I’ll have to relearn everything anyway.

I think about my work, about creating trendy designs for my company. I won’t miss that part of it much. But drawing people. Characters. That’s what I love.

I think about all the drawings and painting of Solas I’ve done. About my digital gallery filled with him and the other members of the Inquisition.

I’ll be swapping my ability to make art of them for something that might allow me to meet them, to walk alongside them in safety. To even help protect them.

Still, it feels like giving up this part of myself will be a large step into the unknown. How is it possible to reconcile losing a piece of yourself for the chance to gain something unfamiliar? How will this affect me as a person?

_I suppose I’ll find out._

My jaws crack as a yawn takes me. I’m so very, very tired now. It's been a hell of a long day.

“Rest, my heart. I will see you in the Fade.”

I snuggle into him under the duvet and let sleep take me from Solas’ arms and into our dreams.

* * *

 

When awareness finds me, I start at the familiarity of my surroundings. I’m in the rotunda. The one currently in ruins above us in the Keep proper.

But this room is not filled with debris. It’s Solas’ space. The one I know better than any other place in Skyhold. Well, apart from the Undercroft maybe.

Noises in the keep surround me, ambient sounds I have always associated with it. People talking, murmuring to each other in voices too low to hear clearly. Loud cawing sounds come from above me. In the rafters high in the tower are black-feathered forms shifting in cages.

I’m standing not far from his desk, near the scaffolding. On the walls, all but the final fresco is complete. The half finished one opens a pit in my stomach.

Arms wrap around my waist, instantly dispelling my unease.

“I recognise my own work, and the room itself,” Solas tells me. “This is the place I claimed for myself? Fitting.”

I twist and stand on my toes to kiss him. He leans down into the kiss but does not deepen it. He pulls away and smiles.

“I allowed your mind to shape our location this time, my love. Were you thinking of this place as you fell asleep?”

“Well, not exactly. I was thinking of your artwork on the walls.”

“Ah, that explains much. If I may?” He walks away from me to the nearest fresco and examines it. “You may not need to show me much more of these events, if these are exact replicas. I know my own work, and the coding I use, well enough to read them in great detail.”

“Just how much detail are we talking about Solas?”

He gestures at the first two in the sequence. “Here is the destruction of a great edifice, the creation of a Breach into the Fade and the formation of an organisation to combat the threat. And more besides.”

“Well, that’s handy.” I walk up alongside him and look up at the second fresco. “I’ve always found it somewhat interesting that you chose to include Fen’Harel imagery in this one. I’ve seen the howling wolf statues. They’re not as common as the one lying down, but they’re around.”

“This is an acknowledgment of my responsibility and involvement in the events that took place,” he explains. “And also, of the strong bonds that must have formed already to draw such a disparate group together.”

“You can tell all that?”

“Of course. Much is written in the image. The angle of certain lines, the specific shades chosen. And of course, the symbolism. In a way, this is somewhat like a journal. A visual depiction of the events that took place and my relation to them.”

“Then, I don’t suppose you’re willing to explain _this_ one, are you?” I say as I pull him to stand in front of the unfinished fresco. The one made of lines scored into the plaster, of a wolf which dwarfs a dragon in size, bowing before the corpse of one.

Solas sighs.

“This image would have been an acknowledgment of the final achievement of the organisation. Of the fact that it is worthy of my respect. A great victory against all odds.”

He reaches out and runs his fingers over the naked plaster. “Unfinished because, I assume, I had already left.”

“Oh yes,” I reply. “Yes you had. I imagine she spent many nights in here on this lovely couch, trying to recapture the feeling of your presence. It would not have been easy.”

He turns to me. He’s sympathetic but also slightly annoyed.

“I regret that you have felt pain because of this, but this was not _my_ decision. I am not the one who chose to leave.”

“I know, love. I know. But I can’t help how I feel about it, still.” I step up to him and close my arms around him. “I don’t blame you. It’s just a little complicated to try and talk about this, you know? It was still you. Just… a different you.”

He holds me for a while, then looks down. “Are we clothed like this due to your memory of this time?”

“What?”

I look down. He’s dressed the way I’m more than familiar with. And me, well, I’m wearing the Inquisitors clothing, of course. Beige pajamas. I make a face.

“This would not be my first choice of attire,” I say. “I’m not the greatest fan of the style. If I had to choose…”

I concentrate and the clothing alters itself. It’s now distinctly more elven in appearance. Leather wraps around my feet up to my knees. I have on a sleeveless tunic with front and back tails that drop to mid-thigh, and woven leather arm guards. The colours have changed to black, white, charcoal and sky blue. The leather weave is repeated throughout the outfit. Overall, it looks like a more stylish version of the elven clothing I’d seen worn in Thedas. Not quite Dalish, but close.

Solas laughs. “Well, I must say I approve of the alteration.”

I reach out and tug on the collar of the leather undershirt he’s wearing. “Why don’t you have this at the moment?”

He looks down, then the woolen tunic is gone. The undershirt is woven leather, dark green of course. It’s quite long but the sleeves stop just short of his wrists.

“Ah, well. I have not been wearing this because I do not have it yet. Or, I did not. It’s here with us, in a room not all too far from where we are sleeping. I’ll show you tomorrow.”

“Alright, I can live with that.” I look around. “What do you want to do now?”

“I believe we should visit my friend,” he says. “The sooner you have made the trade, the sooner you can begin to master what you gain from it.”

“Hmm, okay.” I fidget for a moment. “Is there anything I need to know before we do this?”

“Firstly, it is not ‘we’ who will be doing this. Unfortunately, I cannot interfere in any way, even to offer you advice. I will be with you, but I cannot help you make this deal. In the end, it must be entirely up to you.”

“Fantastic. What if I screw it up?”

Now I feel more than the dread of how this will change me. The other dimension to this is that I could fuck it up completely. If my wording isn’t correct, I could not only lose something I value but there’s a possibility I won’t gain what I need.

“Again, my heart, this spirit is not malicious. It will trade with you honestly if your intent is sincere. It was born out of the love of learning. It is what a mage of this world might term a ‘good spirit’ although such distinctions are ultimately irrelevant.”

“That does make me feel a bit better, thank you.”

“Are you ready?” Solas asks me.

I nod at him and take a deep breath of Fade-air. I’m nervous. My stomach is in knots, and though I know the physical sensation is mostly in my head, it doesn’t stop it feeling real to me.

Then the Fade around us both ripples and changes. It’s not an instantaneous transition, but more of a blurring around the edges of everything. As though wind had blown across a still reflection in a pond.

Then we’re elsewhere.

* * *

 

I look around, craning my neck to stare ever upward.

At first it seems like we’re in a deep canyon with only a faint ribbon of sky in the distance above us. Then I look again. What appeared to be stone walls are bookshelves. Impossibly tall and somehow standing by themselves. Books of every conceivable type fill those shelves, and some look very close to overflowing. But there are also scrolls, tablets, urns and larger things, like tapestries and even mosaics scattered about. Every type of medium upon which knowledge can be recorded is represented here.  

The shelves twist around us, nothing is a straight line. And the uncomfortable geometry of the Fade is present again. What previously looked like an Escher painting feels so much like one that I expect to find myself walking on a ceiling at any moment.

The ground consists entirely of paper. What must be _thousands_ of pages make up the floor of the small section we’re standing in alone.

The air has that familiar nostalgic smell of an old library. Aging paper and dust. A smell I associate with possibility and excitement. I remember my days spent in libraries when I was a girl, browsing the shelves looking for my next fantasy fix.

Something brushes the back of my head and I whip around. A quill floats past me, bobbing gently in a breeze. It’s followed by an inkwell that somehow does not spill, despite it’s being upside-down.

“This is… different.” I say.

Solas smiles at me. “This spirit is very old, and has had a great deal of time to collect it’s knowledge. Of course, this manifestation of it’s realm isn’t literal. The knowledge it keeps is not in fact recorded in these books. All of this is more of a representation of it’s being.”

“Oh, of course. Uh… is there a reason it looks a bit like the Vir Dirthara?”

“You have seen it?” Solas asks. There’s definite urgency and relief in his question.

“Yes, love. It’s still there. Although… maybe not the way you remember it.”

He sighs. “No, of course not. Still, that it even yet exists is cause for celebration.” He looks around us. “The resemblance to the Vir Dirthara is purely one of similarity. This is the domain of a Spirit of Learning, keeping knowledge is its purpose.”

Solas starts walking down the narrow aisle between shelves. I follow, trying to stay close to him.

“Do you know where we are? Where we’re going?”

“No.”

His response brings me up short for a moment, then I hurry to catch up.

“What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“Where we are has little relevance. Our destination is not one of location but of intent.”

_Oh yeah. Sure. That makes all the sense in the world._

He says it so matter of factly, as though it were the easiest thing to understand. I resist muttering to myself about how ridiculous the Fade is and just follow along behind Solas. He knows what he’s doing here, if anyone does.

Solas is the only thing that feels real to me here. He’ll probably say it’s a matter of perspective, if I ask him. Which I don’t. I take the time to think about the deal. About how I’ll phrase it. What I’ll lose and what I’ll gain.

After some time the aisles open up, becoming more uniform and less curved. The shelves themselves are _better_ somehow. As though the overall quality of everything is higher. The contents included. Nicer, more neatly stacked books fill them. Intricate brightly threaded tapestries hang in the air and the pottery resting on the shelves gleams. Our surroundings have acquired the general feeling of a place that’s meant to be _seen_.

Then we come to an end in the shelves. Or rather, they open up and vanish into the dim light to either side of us.

Solas strides confidently forward and I follow in his wake like a timid mouse. This place reminds me somewhat of similar locations I’d seen in other games. Places ruled by darker and far nastier beings than Solas has likely seen. Hopefully. I do not want to meet the things that lived in those places. No thank you.

The pages on the ground grow sparse and give way to polished black marble. Despite the clearer space the light has not really increased. Free-standing pole lamps ring the marble section and bear white flames with no fuel source. There’s furniture as well, stiff and no doubt uncomfortable pewter-upholstered chairs. Three of them of course.

Solas walks forward into the centre of the area and addresses the air.

“Though much time has passed since my last visit, your realm remains the dream of many a scholar. I greet you, on behalf of myself and my mate, Lyrial, who has come to propose a trade. Knowledge for knowledge. Is this agreeable to you, my friend?”

I feel something, a stirring in the air. Brightness drifts down from the murky sky above. A gleaming figure made up of motes of light descends to stand before us.

I’m not sure what I expected. Certainly male, probably with glasses and dressed in flowing robes. The archetype of the aging, wise scholar.

What stands before us catches me off guard completely.

It’s a young girl, elvhen, with a form of silver light. Her hair is long, flowing down to her ankles. She seems to be clothed in a short dress of white light. Her eyes are a blaze of blue, yet somehow gentle. She makes me feel welcome instantly.

She smiles and I feel myself smiling back. There’s an aura of excitement about her, wonder at the possibility of learning something new. Of knowing something that you’d never even suspected. Of discovering some new secret you can share with a person close to you. It’s a love of learning, but also of sharing what you’ve learnt. Of helping others to learn.

I love her instantly.

“Greetings young wolf,” she says in a voice like the chime of delicate bells. “And greetings to you, his mate. It gladdens me to see that you are no longer alone, my friend.”

Solas bows before her and I copy him, albeit nowhere near as smoothly.

“And it likewise brings me joy to see you again,” he says.

He gestures me forward and I move closer to the pair. She’s shorter than me, with the appearance of a teenager. A spirit who calls Fen’Harel ‘young wolf’. Older than him then. And still around after so long, somewhere in her very own realm of the Fade.

_This is fucking intimidating._

Learning laughs at me. It’s not malicious laughter but more a gentle amusement.

“Be at ease, child. I will not harm you. If knowledge is what you seek, then you are welcome in my realm.”

“I apologise, my lady. I’m not used to conversing with spirits. I did not mean to give offense.” I manage to say.

“You have not.” Learning replies, then gestures to the three chairs. “Please, join me in taking my ease. I so rarely have guests these days and I would enjoy the pleasure of your company.”

We all seat ourselves. Despite their appearance, the chairs are comfortable. I wonder if appearance and sensation have any direct correlation in the Fade. It might be that the hardest bench would be as comfortable as a feather bed, if that was the intent behind it.

“Now please, tell me what manner of deal you would make.” Learning says to me.

I stare at her blue, blue eyes for a moment, then glance at Solas. He sits quietly with his hands resting on his thighs. He looks at me, but there’s no hint in his expression or posture other a small smile which tells me nothing at all.

I look back at Learning and say, “My lady, I would like to trade knowledge I have for something of equal value to me. It should be quite valuable to you, as there is little to no chance any knowledge I have exists elsewhere in _this_ world.”

“Ah, how intruiging.” Learning says. Her blue eyes sparkle at me and she leans forward in her seat like the eager young girl she resembles. “I thought there was a different flavour to your mind. And what would you wish to trade?”

“I would like to trade the only knowledge I possess which I value as highly as the knowledge I would like,” I tell her. “I will trade my knowledge of the art of the world I come from.”

“Yes, I can feel you are sincere in this. You place a high value on this knowledge. Child, you do know that you will lose it all? It will no longer be a part of you if you trade it. Are you willing to bear that cost?”

I swallow and nod.

Her eyes grow brighter and brighter, and seem to pull me towards her. I blink and shake my head. But when I look at her again, it seems as though she were the entire world and I the smallest of creatures before her. Everything else around me vanishes. The chairs, her realm, even Solas. I panic at this for a moment, then feel it smoothed away.

I’m standing in a void before her. She watches me with all the intensity of a hungry cat.

“What’s happening?” I ask, and I’m surprised at how disinterested my own voice sounds.

“I thought perhaps we could have a talk away from the eyes and ears of your mate. Just the two of us.”

“Why?”

She twirls around before me, a girl dancing for the sheer joy of it. Everything about her demeanor screams excitement, but there’s also a hint of avarice to her. She wants something. And of course, I know that what she wants is _me_.

“You represent a wealth of beautiful, bright and unique knowledge,” Learning tells me. “All that wonderful information in your head. I respect your decision, to trade something you value highly, but I think you might know something that would be an even greater prize.”

“Such as? I don’t think I know anything that’s particularly valuable. I mostly spent my time absorbing fiction, not fact.”

“Child, you must realise by now that all of that so-called fiction _is_ fact. If this world is real, and I assure you it is, then all of those _other_ worlds are real as well.”

“That’s not a very comforting thought.” I tell her.

“It is not required to be comforting, it merely is.” She walks around me, examining me. I can feel a tickling in my head, an itch somewhere inside my mind. “If you let me have a look inside you, I can give you any knowledge you desire. Anything. All I want is one, brief look.”

“No.” It doesn’t take much thought to come to this answer.

She stops to stand directly in front of me. “My dear child, I do not wish to possess you. Hardly! I have no desire to walk the Unchanging World. There is nothing there that I do not already know.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m not letting anyone inside me.” I tell Learning emphatically. I feel like some of my own emotion is returning to me now.

“Child, it would be for the briefest of moments. You would hardly feel it.”

“And in that time you could, what, take everything I know? I’m not naive enough to suppose that actual length of time means much to you. And I’m _not_ letting a spirit inside me.”

She cocks her head at me. “And what if it were the Spirit of Wisdom? You know of it, know how highly he values and trusts it. If Wisdom were to ask this, would you agree?”

I breathe deeply and let it out in one long sigh.

“First, I don’t think Wisdom would ask this. And second, I’m not going to pretend I know better than you,” I tell the girl. “I don’t, especially not _you._ But I do know that spirits and mortals don’t mix well, and I’m not just talking about possession. For both our sakes, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

She looks up at me for a moment. “There is so much I could give you, child. So much more than you realise. You have questions, about this world. About the dangers lurking in the future. Questions about the Blight, the Void and the Evanuris. Do you not wish to know where they are? What they’re doing? I can tell you.”

That freezes me up solid inside. Where the Evanuris are and what they’re doing? Even the way she’s phrased it indicates that it’s _clearly_ not what Solas thinks they’re doing.

“Why wouldn’t you offer this to him,” I ask her. “He needs to know.”

“He has not thought to ask. He assumes he knows the truth. Assumptions about what you do and do not know are always folly. It is never wise to believe you know the whole of the truth.”

“If you’re his friend you should tell him!” I say. “You should at least offer to trade him for this information.”

“Fen’Harel knows nothing that I desire.” Learning says.

Her words make me shiver. Solas said she wasn’t a malicious spirit. Perhaps not. But she _is_ mercenary. It’s knowledge itself that matters to her. Not the love of learning. She’s beginning to seem more like… well, like a…

“I am no demon,” She says with a laugh. “I am a Spirit of Learning.”

“But what _else_ are you?” I ask in a hoarse voice.

“Oh, clever girl. He knows, he’s always known, but he chooses to believe it does not matter.” She rocks back and forth on her heels and holds her hands behind her back. I stare at her wide-eyed.

“You’re like Imsh-”

“No, do not say that name here, if you please.” She says over me. “Though he is not currently in the Fade, I do not wish to draw his attention. Things have been nice and peaceful without him for the last few millennia.”

I feel sick. Solas had known what she was? But she’s his friend. He’s said so.

“Child, despite all that’s swirling in your mind at the moment, I am no demon. Nor do I want to hurt or _possess_ you. You know that it’s far more complex than the simplistic idea that Demons are bad and Spirits are good. As Solas has told you, there is no real difference. We are as much entitled to being who and what we are as you fleshy beings are. Especially those like myself who once _had_ a body.”

“Alright, fine. I’ll acknowledge that. But you haven’t even asked me what I want yet.”

“I thought we had already settled that, silly me. Of course, I’ll give you knowledge of magic for what you know of your previous world’s art. I have no issue with that trade.”

“So this is separate then?” I ask her.

She nods happily. “Yes indeed. Quite separate! In fact, once we have concluded here, yay or nay, you will not recall this conversation ever took place. It’s safer that way.”

“Safer for who?” I ask.

She smiles at me.

“Wouldn't it be easier for both of us if you just ask for something specific and I agree to give that to you?”

“And that’s the very issue at hand. What I am asking is for a perusal. A look at the menu, so to speak. I will glean an overview of what you know only, no details. In so doing I will be able to see the gems that lie inside you. The precious metals of your mind.”

_So either my memories are some kind of delicious snack or something to be data mined. Great._

I look at the spirit-girl and sigh.

“Do you really know something important about the Evanuris, something that would be valuable to Solas? Or is this just a lure to get what you want?”

“It is both. Child, if I tried to possess you, your mate would notice, yes? You know he is skilled enough to tell. Think of this logically. I will merely look inside you with your permission. You will lose nothing and will barely feel my presence. You will also gain information that may be vital to your mate. This is not a terrible deal, all things considered.”

I’m struggling with this. Solas trusts her. That means a lot to me. But she’s all but admitted to being one of the Forbidden Ones. Those ancient elvhen who returned to being spirits for reasons I don't know. If she’s a friend of Solas, then she’s nothing like Imshael. But everything I know about Thedas screams at me not to let a spirit inside me. That it means possession. Well, most of the time. Not with Anders and Justice. But also, she’s right in that Solas will notice if she tries to possess me.  

And what she’s offering me… knowing _anything_ about the Evanuris is invaluable. I believe that they’re not where and what Solas thinks they are, but I can’t prove it. Everything I suspect is based on theory. Learning could give me facts.

_Fuck fuck fuck!_

“Alright, I agree.”

She claps her hands together excitedly then bounds up to me.

“You will not regret this, child. I promise you. I will reward your trust as it deserves.” And with that enigmatic statement she reaches out and clasps my face. She brings my head down so that she can stare into my eyes. The world dissolves into blue fire.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An illustration of the NSFW scene from chapter 5 can be found at ardent-reider.tumblr.com


	9. To speak in dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Specific plot related Masked Empire spoilers in this chapter.

I start, and stare at Learning where she sits on her pewter-upholstered chair.

What has she just asked me? Or have I just said something? It’s a little hazy. 

_ Must be my nerves.  _

“Good, I am glad to hear that. The cost is high, but your sincerity is genuine. What do you wish to trade for?” Learning asks me.

_ Oh that's right, I’ve just told her what I’m willing to give her for magical knowledge. _

I think back to what I’d decided earlier during my walk with Solas through Learning’s Fade-realm. 

“I would like to trade my knowledge of the forms and techniques of my world’s art for effective knowledge of the forms and techniques of my magic, both in combat and out of it. I would like to trade my knowledge of the English terminology of art for the Trade tongue as it is spoken in Thedas presently.”

This idea had seemed like a good one earlier. I only hope it works out the way I think it will. If I split the knowledge up into categories I can trade different parts for different things.

She blinks at me, which translates into a flickering of the lights of her eyes. Then gives me a gentle tinkle of laughter. 

“Very well, I am agreeable to that. I will give you the knowledge of how to use  _ your _ magic effectively as well as the Trade tongue. In turn, I will make certain that the knowledge I give matches the unique value of the knowledge I receive.”

“So, you’ll give me the knowledge to fight and defend myself? And other things? I apologize if I’m repeating myself, but I have not done this before.”

“Indeed, I would never have suspected.” Learning winks at me then turns to Solas. “Do you have anything to add, young wolf?”

My mate shakes his head, that faint smile never leaving his lips. “Nothing at all.”   
“In that case,” Learning says. “Yes, I will do so. I understand the nature of your request, perhaps better than you do at present, child. I will give you what you need, do not fear.”   
I’m still anxious about this, but I nod at her. I trust her. She’s Solas’ friend and the kind of spirit I cannot help but love. 

“What do I do?” I ask.

Learning holds her hand out to me. “There is little required in the way of action on your behalf. Merely take my hand, and the deal will be complete.”

I reach towards her, then pause. “Will it hurt?”

“No, no more than it usually hurts to forget something. And you have already received knowledge in this manner, so you should be accustomed to it.”

“Already? When?” I ask, surprised.

“Your knowledge of the Elvhen language is not something you acquired the usual way. I’m sure you’ve noticed? I do not know who gave it to you, but it was placed inside you much the way I will place the information you have requested.”

“Oh, right. Yes, I suppose I am familiar with the process then.” I look into the childlike face before me. The expression is hard to read, made up of light as it is, but I see nothing to deter me. I reach out and take her hand.

I hold my breath and wait. 

Learning releases me and I look at her, confused. “Did it work?” I ask.

“Of course,” she laughs again. “Were you expecting flashing lights and ominous thunder?”

I stare at her. I try to look inside myself, to search for some sign of a change. Nothing. 

“But I don’t feel any different.”

At last Solas speaks from my side, “And nor will you. If you recall, it took you some time to notice that you were speaking a different language. This is not dissimilar.”

He’s looking at me now with an intensity that wasn’t present earlier. I can’t feel his emotions. He’s got them tightly bound up inside himself. It’s possible that he’s better at concealing them when he’s in the Fade. It’s understandable. A sensible precaution when interacting with Spirits, I’m sure.

“Thank you, my friend.” Solas says to Learning and stands. “I appreciate your assistance and your willingness to trade honestly.”

_ Is it my imagination or did Solas just emphasise ‘honestly’ for some reason? _

“It was my pleasure,” the spirit-girl says and likewise stands. “I will enjoy perusing the knowledge I have gained this day. I am sure I will find it quite enlightening.”

I stand and copy Solas as he bows once again. He’s become curt now. Very businesslike. It confuses me a little, but I have no idea what the etiquette is with this.

“In that case, we will take our leave. We have much yet to do before the evening passes.” Solas says. He turns to me and holds out his hand. I take it and I’m surprised by the amount of pressure he puts into his grip.

“Farewell, then, Fen’Harel and mate of Fen’Harel. Until next we meet.”

* * *

I watch as Learning and her entire realm melt away into the Fade. We’re somewhere else again. A clearing in an ancient forest. 

Solas pulls me close and crushes me against his chest. 

“What’s wrong?” I ask him. I can feel him again, feel his worry, anger and regret. There’s also a very healthy amount of self-loathing.

“I’m sorry. I am so very sorry my love,” he says. 

I know he can feel the rising alarm in me. Nothing he’s saying or doing makes sense. I don’t understand his behaviour. Didn’t we just do what he’d wanted? Hasn’t it worked?   
“What’s happened? Why are you upset? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, not you. You have done nothing other than what I have asked of you.”

“Well fine then, but that doesn’t mean nothing’s wrong. What’s going on?”

He sighs and holds me tighter, then kisses my forehead. While I always enjoy his affection, I’m growing annoyed with this.

“Can you stop avoiding the question please, my heart? I’m only going to be more upset the longer this goes on.”

“I have done something I wish I had not needed to do.” He pulls away and looks down into my eyes. His expression is filled with pain and regret, and he almost flinches when I meet his gaze.

“Shit, what? Just spit it out.”

His brows lower a touch at my phrasing but he pulls me close again and holds me. 

“I used you,” Solas says.   
“And what exactly does  _ that _ mean?"

“I knew that Learning would not be able to resist you, so I used you in an attempt to acquire information. It was a gamble, but I chose to believe that you would consider me and knowledge that relates to my intent as a priority.”

I close my eyes and sigh. “Get to the point. What happened?”

“She took the bait. She made a private deal with you, quite aside from the one you remember.”

“I don’t recall any such thing, Solas.”

“No, you would not.”

My mouth drops open and I stare up at him. I’m a little hollow. I can’t decide how I feel about what he’s told me. I don’t remember anything, nothing about an extra deal. But I’m sure he knows what he’s talking about.

“Explain, please, why you did this. Why you didn’t tell me and why you’re even telling me now.”

“I did not tell you prior to meeting Learning because she would have seen it in you and known. I tell you now because I wish it had not been necessary to keep my intent from you. As for why I did this at all… it is my hope that you have now acquired  _ something _ that will be useful to me, to us.”

“You don’t have to do that Solas,” I tell him. “You don’t have to try to make this more acceptable to me by including me in it.”

“I am not attempting to manipulate you Lyrial,” he says. His hands twitch on my arms. “I know that you care about my goals, about the world I wish to restore. I cannot waste opportunities when they present themselves.”

“I know. Just, give me a moment please. I need a second for my head and my heart to catch up with each other.”

I walk away from Solas. 

The clearing we’re in is alive with the sounds of a living forest. Birds call from the trees, a faint breeze stirs the leaves and the smell of loam and grass surrounds us. I summon my go-to couch and sit down. Closing my eyes I stretch back and just rest for a while, allowing my emotions to sort themselves out.

Should I be upset about this? What would the normal response be? Do I have to react to this the way anyone in a regular relationship would?

Nope. Not at all. There’s  _ nothing _ normal about my relationship with Solas. I believe what he says and I accept his reasons for why he’s done it. And it’s hard to be angry about something I don’t even remember. 

Being  _ used _ though. 

I’m not upset about that part. As much as I probably  _ should _ be. It’s the possibility of what I might have traded with Learning that bugs me. I have no clue what could have happened. How am I supposed to remember something that I don’t even know I know? 

_ Now there’s a fucking confusing thought. _

Making deals with spirits historically doesn’t always go well in Thedas. Oh sure, most of the time the protagonist of whichever game you’re playing will get out of it relatively unharmed. But there’s always  _ some _ catch. Something that’ll come back later to bite you right in the ass when you least expect it. And now I’ve made a deal with a spirit that I can’t even remember. Because Solas set it up that way.

I can sense him standing not far from me. Staying where he is, giving me space and time. He’d done what he’d had to do, as he sees it. He doesn’t do things like this because he  _ wants _ to. Always because he  _ has  _ to. 

_ Ugh, either way, this doesn’t change a damn thing regarding how I feel about him. He’s fucking Fen’Harel after all. I can’t expect him to change who he is. And I don’t want him to. _

“Solas,” I call.

He walks towards me with enough hesitancy that it makes me smile. 

I pat the couch beside me and he sits down. I allow myself to slide down onto my side and rest my head in his lap. He strokes my hair and I feel him relax as my own acceptance touches him.

“At least tell me I actually got what I asked for.”

“I believe so,” he says. “I have no way of telling what Learning gave you, but I am sure it will at least match the letter of what you asked for.”

“How are you going to get whatever  _ else _ she gave me?”

“I will ask another friend to assist with that, later. A friend you already know of.”

I nod. Wisdom.

I roll over so that I’m on my back and look up at him.

“I’m not angry with you, my love. I understand your need. I’m prepared to do whatever I can to help you. I only hope that you’re correct, that I did somehow receive some information that will assist you.”

He nods. Relief floods through him leaving a wash of love and pain in its wake.

I study his face from the vantage of his lap. Most of it is in shadow, but I can see the faint twist to his lips. The lines that crease the corners of his eyes. I have a wonderful view of his beautiful jawline from down here. I reach up and run the tips of my fingers from his chin up to his ear. He catches my fingers and brings them to his lips.

“I’m sorry, my mate, my love,” he sighs and presses my palm to his cheek.  

“There’s a saying from another world that I think fits you almost too well,” I tell him gently. “To quote, ‘duty is heavier than a mountain, death lighter than a feather.’ I understand it, and whether I like it or not, I understand that you must do everything in your power to fulfil your duty.”

“That is a truth, yes,” Solas says and pain wells up inside him. My words have cut him. “But I would, sometimes, that it did not have to be.”

“One day, maybe it won’t be. One day you will be free. Until that day, use whatever you have to, anything and everything. And anyone.”

I have given him permission and he knows it. His arms grip me fiercely and he pulls me up and twists us both around. Then he’s holding me, crushing his lips into mine. If he were  _ anyone _ else he’d be crying. I can feel it. 

His shoulders shake. He’s not used to this, to the acceptance and to someone else being willing to give him what he needs. He loathes himself for it as well. For the need which drives him. 

“How can you be  _ so much _ ?” He asks me, voice raw and barely louder than a whisper. “How can you give me so much?”

I hold him and kiss him back, trying to comfort him. 

“Those are my words, love. I can never hope to equal all that  _ you _ are. I barely even know the half of it.”

“On that we disagree, Lyrial.” Solas says. He’s forceful, his emotions fierce and burning, lending as much weight to his words as possible. “You do yourself a disservice. If you could see yourself as I see you…”

I laugh. “Maybe one day. For now I have a lifetime of a self-esteem and self-worth issues to work through. It doesn’t really matter anyway, I’m just trying to do what I can to help you.”

“Between the two of us, we are an excess of Pride and of Humility. Perhaps we will be able to find a balance, together.”

“Are you saying that if I were a spirit I’d be Humility?” I give a short laugh. “I don’t really consider myself a humble person, but I suppose it fits, if anything does. Either way, a balance sounds good.”

“Yes, good for both of us.” Solas looks into my eyes. 

The blue is lighter at the moment. His mood has changed. I can feel that his heart is lighter, that he’s free of another burden. And I’m feeling good about myself, despite this ‘extra deal’ I’ve supposedly made with Learning. For the moment, I don’t know what I may have traded, and consequently it doesn’t bother me. I’m feeling emboldened.

“Should we go and see if Felassan is sleeping?” I ask Solas.

He leans down and kisses me again. This time it’s slow, gentle. I melt into it and sigh when he pulls away. 

He strokes my hair, pulls it out of my eyes. “If you wish. I believe Felassan is in the Fade, I can feel his presence. Are you ready for this conversation you wish to have with him?”

“Now or never,” I respond. “We need to know when the eluvians will work.”

“Yes,” Solas says. “We do.”

And again, the Fade around us ripples and changes. 

* * *

I know this place instantly. I’ve seen it before, or something very similar. The light is strange but bright. It feels good, as though I belong here. The colours are alive and welcoming and the landscape takes my breath away. 

_ Oh hell. It’s the bloody Crossroads! _

It’s a ruin, clearly, but the elegance and grace of the place still shines through the decay. Everything is a work of art. Every carved stone brick, every gentle curve of worked masonry, and every shattered arch of a broken mirror. 

I love it here.

The sound of someone clearing their throat loudly makes me whirl around. Leaning with studied nonchalance against a fallen stone tree sculpture is a tall male elf. Mythal’s vallaslin curves gracefully across his cheeks and forehead. His strange violet-colored eyes stare at me in mild surprise, then glance over at Solas. His clothing is deceptively simple, as Solas’ own generally is. A rough cloak, breeches and tunic with his feet bare but for the leather wrappings up to his knees. 

I glance at Solas himself and notice that he’s changed his attire. It’s far more regal now, like something a king would wear. Fine fabrics and gold trim, with that fur over his shoulder. I shiver at the memories it inspires. 

_ Shit, this is the first time I’m going to actually see him interact with someone as Fen’Harel. I’ve only ever seen him talk to the Inquisitor. _

“Well, this is unusual,” Felassan says after a moment. He pushes off from the sculpture and walks towards us.  “You’ve never brought anyone along before.” His voice is deep and resonant but with a hint of slyness to it. 

I glance at Solas and try not to show my surprise. He’s cloaked himself in an aura of faint menace. His expression is distant and laced with arrogance. I have no idea if this is because of what he knows Felassan will do, or if it’s just his standard procedure when meeting his agents in the Fade. At least he hasn’t drawn shadows about himself. If he turns himself into a ‘shadowy figure’ I think I’ll burst out laughing. Which will probably ruin the effect completely. 

“Circumstances are different,” Solas says. His voice is deeper as well, and echoes faintly. What exactly is this? A performance? 

“Ah, well, that explains  _ everything _ then.” Felassan turns his violet eyes to me. He stands in front of me, hands on hips, and looks me up and down. “And who are you, young one?”

I struggle to keep my glee in check as he calls me that. 

_ Da’len. He calls Briala that. _

I know that both of them can feel my excitement. While they’re locked up tight, my emotions spill out of me freely. Every little shift in my emotions is quite apparent to them both. 

Felassan raises his eyebrows at me, no doubt due to my reaction. 

“Uh, I’m…” I start, but Solas interrupts.

“She is my mate, Lyrial.”

Felassan’s mouth drops open and for a few seconds I can feel utter, absolute shock from him. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am indeed.” Solas says calmly. His aura flares, almost like a challenge.

Felassan takes a step back, then stops. He’s balanced on the balls of his feet, as though he’s about to flee. Then he shakes his head and stares at Solas. 

“I have known you a long time, Dread Wolf. And this… this is not like you.”

Solas advances on him and stops when he’s standing close enough to Felassan to embrace him. There’s not much difference in their height, although Felassan is shorter by a few centimetres. 

“As I have said,” my mate says evenly. “Circumstances are different.”

Felassan straightens and does not back down. “They could not be  _ this _ different. No change so profound could have happened so quickly. Might I have a word with you? In private?”

The whole display is making me anxious and embarrassed. I’d wanted to meet Felassan, this had been my idea. But now with the two of them acting like strange cats in a yard, I’m torn between amusement and exasperation. 

“Oh go on,” I tell them. I cross my arms and sigh as they both turn to look at me. “Shoo, go away. Have a private chat. My delicate sensibilities aren’t going to be offended.”

A smile touches Solas’ lips and he shakes his head at me. Felassan stares at me blankly, clearly schooling his expression. He doesn’t trust me. Well, I can’t say that I blame him really. Still, I’d like them to get over this so that we can move on to more important things.

“Very well,” Solas says. “If you so desire, then we will speak alone.” 

I make a shooing motion towards them both and Solas raises an eyebrow. He draws Felassan away from me and they begin speaking. I’m fairly certain that he’s done something with sound because I can’t hear a word. 

_ Well, more time to explore the Crossroads for me then. _

I stare off into the misty distance, trying to get a better feel for the area. This place has an air of waiting. I can almost taste the patience and anticipation. It looks and feels like perpetual late autumn. The few trees I can see that aren’t made of stone have sparse red leaves. There aren’t that many mirrors around us, not that I can make out. There are  _ some _ though, both broken and intact. I walk over to one that appears whole. 

As soon as I’m standing in front of it unease grips me. There’s no reflection. The glass ripples and glows with a faint golden light. I want to touch it but don’t, I’m not that stupid. It’s absolutely beautiful though. The entire thing is made of metal shaped to appear both geometric and organic. 

I stare into the shifting ‘glass’ and time seems to slow around me. 

A hand falls on my shoulder and I jump.

“My heart,” Solas says. “Come, we have settled things, for now.”

I turn and find them both standing close behind me. 

Felassan is shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He looks… mollified. If only barely. 

_ I wonder what Solas said to him. _

“Am I allowed to speak now?” I ask the two men.

Solas has an ever-so-faint smile curving his lips while Felassan stares at me openly. He’s assesing me obviously, probably trying to understand why this has happened.

Solas nods at me. 

_ Oh my does he look smug! _

“Well, despite whatever just happened, I’m very pleased to meet you, Felassan” I tell him. “I have heard much about you.”

He glances from me to Solas and back again. His hands open and close, but he gives me a grave bow from the waist down. 

“I am… honoured to meet you, my Lady.”

_ Oh. What? Am I… _

I stare at Solas and he nods at me. His smile is a bit wider now.

Felassan notes my shock and straightens. 

“You were not expecting to be addressed as such?” He asks. “Well, this just keeps getting stranger. Will one you you please explain to me how this came about? I would sooner have expected you to play lapdog to an Orlesian noble than for this to happen.”

I burst out laughing. Oh god, the mental imagery of that!

Wiping away a tear I say, “Now  _ that _ is something I’d like to draw…”

I frown. The word I’d said for ‘draw’ had been elvhen. I hadn’t ‘heard’ an English translation of it. And beyond that, I can’t think of an English translation. It’s just gone. I’d forgotten my deal with Learning.  

_ Ah. Right. Maybe not then. _

“That would make a pretty picture,” Felassan says after a moment. He smiles and glances at Solas. “Although I am not sure it would be appreciated.”

My mate crosses his arms and cocks his head. Some of the tension between the two of them has been eased. “I might be persuaded to overlook it, provided the image itself is stylistically appealing,” he says. 

He moves to stand close to me and rubs my back in reassurance. He knows what my brief moment of hesitation was caused by. 

Felassan notes this, eyebrows rising once again. He runs a hand through his deep brown hair and shakes his head, sighing. He laces his fingers together and I have a suspicion he’s wishing for something to fiddle with. 

“Did you two not cover this in your private talk?” I ask. 

“Ah, well, no,” the tattooed elf says. “We did not. I would still enjoy some variety of explanation.” 

I shrug. “Honestly, I just sort of fell in his lap and he couldn’t resist my charms.”

Solas chuckles. “Essentially true, if rather lacking in detail.” 

“Your ‘charms’ eh?” Felassan says. “As in…”

I raise an eyebrow. “Well, I  _ was _ naked. But if you’re asking about charm magic I wouldn’t know the first thing about it. Certainly nothing about blood magic.”

“I don’t believe Felassan was insinuating you used blood magic to control me,” Solas says. He crosses his arms. “At any rate, I’d like to think I’d be more than capable of resisting such a thing.”

Felassan shrugs. “As would I. But to reiterate, I do not think there is anything you could have told me that would have shocked me more than this. However it came about.”

Solas gestures to our surroundings. “That you are here indicates a great many things. I trust you will work to secure the means by which you passed through?”

_ Thank god for a subject change. _

Felassan glances around us and leans casually back against the same fallen tree sculpture. “What else would I still be here for? But it will not be as easy as I anticipated.”

I decide to jump in and hope Solas will not be too annoyed with me. “How long has it been since you left Clan Virnehn?”

They both look at me and I shift on my feet under the scrutiny. Felassan crosses his arms before his chest and appraises me again.

“Not more than a day or so,” he says finally.

A day from Clan Virnehn. I couldn’t be sure of the exact time Felassan and his group had spent in the Crossroads, or will spend. I know the events fairly well. Soon they’ll come to a chamber filled with ancient elvhen dead. And Gaspard… Well. A few days at most then before Briala steals the ruby and activates the Eluvian network herself. So close!

“If I may ask, who or  _ what _ are you?” Felassan says to me. “You have the feeling of one of the People, yet clearly you are also young enough that you have not learnt control of your emotions.”

Solas moves to stand partially in front of me. I’m not sure if this is in defense of me or some sort of possessiveness on his behalf. I can’t tell.

_ Fuck, this is frustrating! I can believe how much I’ve come to rely on being able to feel him! _

I place my hand on his arm and step around him.

“It’s my choice to answer,” I tell my mate. “And I want to.” I turn and look Felassan in the eyes. “To start off with, I’m clearly disrupting whatever dynamic you two usually have. Not that I know what it is, really. So, sorry about that.”

Felassan chuckles. “Not so much. Half the time I’m not sure what that ‘dynamic’ is myself.”

I smile and shrug. “Well, even so, I’m not a fan of tension and I can feel more than a bit here. Even if I can’t actually ‘feel’ either of you at the moment.”

Solas withdraws a little from inside himself, just enough to send a tendril of emotion to me. It tastes of amusement and wariness. I grip it with my own feelings and it’s as though we’re holding hands. I’m not sure if Felassan can sense it, but if he can, he’s studiously ignoring it.

“My lady-” Felassan says.

“Lyrial, please. Being anyone’s ‘Lady’ has never been on my to-do list.”

Something in his posture eases a bit. He’s probably letting me see it but all the same it gives me some relief. He laughs at me and I enjoy the amusement I see light up his violet eyes. The vallaslin on his face are a dark brown and accentuate the rich hue of his skin. 

“As you wish, Lyrial. The ‘tension’ you describe is more confusion on my part. At least now that I have something like an explanation. I do trust him to look after himself, but you both have to admit that this is out of character.”

“Oh, completely,” I say. “But even so, I can feel our connection. I know it’s real. It’s also acutely precious because of how unexpected it is, how unlikely.”

Solas strokes my back again and I feel warmth flow from him. “As I have explained, the connection is real. And, what is more, as of this moment, Lyrial has done more to advance my plans than anyone else, including myself.” Solas says.

“I wouldn't say ‘advance’, more like correct.” I add. “Ugh. This is a little awkward. I’m not good with awkward. Mind if I make this more casual and a little more comfortable?”

I don’t wait for either of them, but summon a dining room table and chairs into a clear space on the elvhen paving stones. I add glasses and a few different bottles of alcohol. I have no idea what they’ll like.

I feel annoyance spike through the link of emotion and hear Solas sigh.

Felassan is quiet for a moment, then he glances at me. “Quite the trick.” he says.

“What? What’s strange about this? I’ve done it before.” I look at them both.

Felassan chuckles. “Well, now I begin to see how this could have happened.” He walks forward and seats himself at the table. He reaches for a bottle of red wine and uncorks it. After sniffing it, he pours himself a glass and looks at the two of us.

Solas says softly, “Not every Dreamer has the ability to alter the Fade so easily. We are not all equal.”

“Oh… I see.” I sigh. “Fine. Cat’s out of the bag then.” 

I walk over and sit down. I choose a bottle of rosé and pour myself a glass. I hold it up to Solas. “This one’s sweet, if you’d like some?” He nods and I pour him a glass as well.

He sits down next to me and accepts it, then takes a sip. 

The elf across from us passes his glass from hand to hand, playing with it. I’m reminded of the descriptions of him from the book. 

Solas is silent beside me and seems content to let me take the lead. “Felassan, I’m new. I was a spirit until fairly recently, or so I’m told. I don’t remember much from before. But I do know I’ve been watching you, and what’s been happening around you. I know about most of the recent events surrounding Briala, Celene, Michel, Gaspard and yourself.”

I take a sip of wine. 

Felassan considers his glass then looks up at me. “And this is how you know of Clan Virnehn?”

I nod. 

“I have told her nothing of your activities,” Solas says to his agent. “Lyrial asked to meet with you herself, and I have obliged.”

“Why?” he asks me, eyes glittering beneath the delicate curves of his vallaslin.

“Because I like you. I like your personality, your irreverence, your Fen’Harel parables, all of it. I wanted to meet you.”

“You like me? Now  _ that _ is unusual.” He swallows a mouthful of wine then shakes his head. “Not many people say they  _ like _ me. Most are put off by my way with words. I can’t imagine why. As far as I’m concerned, I’m a delight.”

“If I had a problem with sarcasm and bluntness, I wouldn’t be in love with  _ him _ .” I jerk a thumb at Solas. 

“Or you have the patience of one of the human’s Divines.”

Solas clears his throat. 

I reach under the table and rest my hand on his thigh. I give it a squeeze and I feel him respond through the link connecting us. He’s mostly amused by the exchange, but still wary.

“Would you prefer honeyed words poured in your ear, my heart? I can oblige if so.” I say to Solas.

Felassan laughs loudly and Solas smiles at me. 

“Not all all. Speak your mind whenever you wish.”

“You may regret that.” I grin at him.

“Who is to say that I do not already do so?” His answering smile is teasing.

“Hah! I like her,” Felassan says. “Anyone who’s willing to spar verbally with you is worth knowing. Provided of course, that she is aware of exactly who and what you are.”

I feel Solas’ emotions shift. He stares at his agent and it’s not an altogether friendly look.

I intervene again. “I know everything that matters for now. I know who he is, what he is and what he plans to do. He’s not deceiving me. I love him while knowing the truth.” I tell Felassan.

“Ah, you know about the Veil then?” Felassan says.

_ Dear god this man likes to walk on thin ice. He’s baiting Solas, clearly. Why the fuck is he doing this? _

“Yes, I know about the Veil. But on the other hand I know about the people of this world. I know about their plight and about how shitty everything is in general. The reason I watched Briala at all was because I feel for her. And that is really why I wanted to meet you.”

“You know about the Veil, but you care for the people of  _ this _ world? Either you do not really know, or you are being willfully ignorant.” Felassan tells me. He drains his wine and pours another glassful. He takes the cork from the bottle and begins to roll it over in his hands.

“Have a care.” Solas says flatly.

Felassan sighs. “I apologise, Lyrial. I would excuse myself by saying that I have not had the best of journeys so far. But you seem to know that already.”

I watch the other elf for a moment, then turn to my mate.

“Solas, may I speak to Felassan alone please?” I ask.

He looks at me. His hesitation comes through the link but I squeeze his thigh again and nod. “I’ll go to sleep directly after this, so you need not wait for me.”

He passes his gaze from Felassan to myself and back again. 

For his part Felassan is watching me with his eyes narrowed and his brows down. His vallaslin makes his face hard to read. 

“No harm will come to her, am I understood?” Solas says.

Felassan gives a brief, mirthless laugh. “Please, if anything it’s  _ she _ who could harm  _ me _ , if she chose. I am nowhere near as strong in the Fade, as you well know.”

Solas considers this while I watch, then he stands and nods. After all, the idea is that I have the chance to talk to Felassan. Doing it alone makes more sense than with Solas present. I’m sure he doesn’t like it, but I count on the fact that he wants this to happen. He wants me to find a way of convincing the other mage. 

I can see the conflicting emotions in his eyes. His expression is cool as he glances at Felassan, but the lines of his face tell me that he’s hopeful. That’s a victory in and of itself.

“As you wish, my heart.” He looks at Felassan. “Do all in your power to obtain the key to the Eluvians. You know what is at stake in this.”

“Of course I do. I’m not an idiot, nor am I likely to forget.” Felassan stands as well and bows to Solas. 

And with that the Dread Wolf is gone.

The older elf sits down again and leans back in his chair. He refills his glass and looks at me, waiting. The cork turns around and around in his fingers.

I sigh and down my wine, then rub my palm across my face. “I hope you don’t mind speaking with me alone.” I say.

“Mind? Not at all. Well, somewhat. I do need to get to sleep soon. There is no doubt another thrilling day of passing through the eluvians tomorrow.”

“About that. Gaspard is behind you, it’s probably a good idea to watch your back.”

His eyebrows climb again. “Oh? Well, not that I wasn’t expecting to be followed but I had assumed it would be by someone else.”

I nod. “Imshael is behind you too.”

“And that is precisely who I expected! Well, it’s nice to know I’m not wrong, relatively speaking.” He holds himself still and gives away nothing with his body language. Felassan is a spy, he knows how to keep himself closed off. The mysterious elven mentor to Briala who, despite knowing him for years, still knows far less than she thinks, or deserves.  

He swirls the wine in his glass, then takes another sip. “Now, please tell me why you would wish to speak with me alone.”

I think about my answer, then decide to try for bluntness. It’s worked so far. It probably won’t for much longer, but it’s worth a shot.

“I know you feel that the People of  _ this _ world are real and that they deserve the right to fight for themselves and their existence.”

His expression doesn’t change as he answers. “Do I? Whatever gave you  _ that _ impression?” 

I lean forward, allowing my passion to show clearly in my body language. “Call it a hunch. The thing is, I believe the same thing. And what’s more, Solas has agreed to let me show him why.”

“Has he now? If so, you have your work cut out for you. It will not be easy to change his mind on this particular topic.”

“No, but he’s more than capable of it. He may be prone to snap judgement in the spur of the moment, but if he’s had time to think he can be rational.”

“You seem to know him rather well, considering. How long have you been with him, precisely?”

“That is a complicated question with an answer that’s even harder to give. All I can say is that I know him better than I  _ should _ . Since I have been with him, we have not been far apart. I have felt him, as he has felt me, constantly. We have already shared much.”

“If you know him so well, then you should also know that he is easily capable of deception. Do you believe you can trust that you truly know him? That you somehow are capable of doing what even  _ I _ could not?”

Felassan’s words are delivered casually. He looks at me with mild interest, as though the topic were of no particular importance. As far as he knows, his suggestion  _ should _ disturb me. He has no way of knowing just how well I know his ‘god’.

“Trust is a choice, and I choose to trust him. I have felt the core of him and it’s my purpose in life now to try and do the impossible. As his purpose is to restore the People, mine is to heal him. I will help him with anything he needs of me, but my wish is to soothe the pain inside him.”

Felassan sighs and sets down his glass. He leans forward and rests his chin on his hands.

“You accept a burden no other could even dream of attempting to claim.” He says. “An impossible task, or so it would appear.”

“Which is why I need your help.”

“Ahhh.” He’s silent for a time, watching me, no doubt reading my emotions and feeling my sincerity. “Why do you call him ‘Solas’ and not Fen’Harel?”

“Because to me, he is Solas. Fen’Harel is the outer layer of him. I knew him first as Solas and that is how I will always know him.”

“Have a care not to focus too much on only one aspect of him, Lyrial.”

“I know, I know. He’s Solas  _ and _ Fen’Harel. There’s no separating the two. I’m quite aware that Fen’Harel is not a mask, or a persona he adopted. It’s who he is. I cannot claim to know him as you know him. I certainly can’t tell any amusing anecdotes or logic puzzle stories about him. But I do know what’s inside him.”

“Again, you may believe you do. I have been with him long enough to be able to say, with a good deal of certainty, that knowing him is never quite as straightforward as you think it is.”

“You’re probably right,” I say and rub my chest absentmindedly. “But sometimes I can feel something happening between us, something more than just a connection, or being aware of his emotions. I feel as though we’re growing even closer somehow.”

He laughs at me. “And you believe this is enough? That this places you above years of planning? That your sweet words will be enough to convince him to cast it all aside?”

I shake my head. “I love him, Felassan. More than anything else, including myself. And I know he loves me in return. Nothing anyone says will make me doubt that.”

He’s silent for a time, staring intently into his wine. “Do you know, if this were a different time, I would have been only too glad for him? There was a point when we all wished for him to find someone but he would give excuse after excuse. Always ‘I have no time’ or ‘there’s no one I could see myself with’. You know, the usual excuses. After a while, we just gave up. We certainly weren’t going to push him.”

I watch him. I’m not sure what to say to this.

“My point is, that we know what he  _ is _ . We all of us made it a point to learn about wolves. It seemed like a good idea and it certainly gave us some insight into his personality. We know that wolves don’t generally do well alone. They need others of their own kind.”

“Solas says that I’m a wolf too.” I say quietly. “I believe it. I can feel that it’s true.”

“So he’s told me.” The other elf bares his teeth in a smile. “Both elf and wolf, as he is. Rare, very rare, yet here you are.”

“What, do you want me to apologise for it or something? I can’t help being what I am. It’s been hard, whether you believe me or not. Very hard. I have so much to learn. I’ve barely had the chance to breathe, to take it in. Despite everything though, the one certain, absolute fact is that I love him so much that at times it feels like my heart will rupture.”

“‘Apologise for it…’” Felassan sighs. “No, no I don’t want that. What I want is some reassurance that you are who and what you say you are. That what he’s told me is true. You are already so close to him that he is willing to connect his spirit with yours, to offer you comfort. You can see how this is unsettling for me.”

“I don’t really owe you anything,” I tell him. “But the thing is, I’d like to be your friend.” I spread my hands on the table and sigh. “I don’t know what to say to you, what you want me to say.”

He’s worked little pieces of cork free and made a small pile on the table. He looks up at me, truly looks into my eyes. “There isn’t much you could say and not much you could do at the moment. I suppose then, it comes down to whether or not I choose to trust you. Whether I want you be your friend.”

He doesn’t know it, but Felassan’s choice here could affect whether he lives or dies. But I can’t tell him that. I’m at a loss. 

Felassan sweeps the small pile of cork off of the table and leans back, dusting his hands. 

“In the end, I could make a different choice altogether,” he says. “I can choose to trust  _ him _ , as I always have. To trust that he knows what he’s doing with you. That this is as real for him as it clearly is for you. That you are both in love. I can choose to be happy for him, that he has found this at such an unlikely time. After all that he has been through, I cannot deny that he deserves some happiness, although many others would.”

“I can live with that,” I tell him. “But you need to understand that everything I do is for him. And I believe that he needs to see that this world is as I said. He cannot let his pain rule and blind him. This world is no longer his mistake to correct. The people in it are responsible for themselves and their own decisions. They have had thousands of years to make this world what it is. They are real, as much people as we are. They deserve the chance to fight for themselves. They deserve a choice. I have to try.”

“Talk like that could get you killed and most certainly will if you are not who you say you are.”

“Maybe. But I’ve already discussed this with him. He knows how I feel.”

“Then you have already changed him in the time you have been with him, if you speak the truth.”

“I am, I mean I do. I’m sure you can feel that.”

“I can. But the question is not whether you  _ think _ it’s true, but whether it  _ is _ .” He flicks a small crumb of cork from his sleeve. “Regardless, it’s enough to bring me some small hope. Now, tell me what help you think I could give you.”

“Give him what he needs from you. Don’t do anything that would make him doubt you or feel that you are not loyal to him.”

“That is oddly specific. What makes you think I would do any of that?”

“Briala.”

“What about her? She is certainly useful but beyond that, I’m hardly her type.” His tone is light but I’m willing to bet I have his attention.

“Felassan, you are her teacher. You have been for years. I know how she feels about you and I have a good idea about how you feel in return. You have essentially become the person she trusts most in this world, now that Celene has shown some of her true colours.”

“Yes, well, she presented an excellent opportunity to spy on the heart of Orlais. It was only natural that I would be to her what she most needed me to be.”

I laugh. “Oh dear. Well. No Felassan, I’m sorry but I know better. I was able to watch you quite closely. No  _ hahren _ , I know that you have very strong feelings where she is concerned.”

“This is what the orlesians would call an impasse.” He says. “I have no intention of admitting to what you have implied. However, you clearly believe what you say is true.”

“I’m not a spy and I’m no Orlesian. I don’t play the Game and I’m a terrible liar. I can’t force you to believe me but you really don’t have to. I’ve asked you to do nothing you do not already intend do to, yes?”

Felassan says nothing but shifts the position of his legs under the table. 

“You don’t have to say anything, just listen to me. I know that you’ve spent enough time out in the world to see that it’s real. I know that you’ve formed at least one relationship with a person of this time that is real. Very real. A relationship that has come to mean more to you than it should have. Despite yourself, you have come to love her. Please,” I sigh. “Don’t make him do something he’ll regret. He needs to learn how to be different. How to see this world as you have seen it.” I look back at Felassan. “Please, trust that I can help with this. Trust that I can help him see.”

After a long time, a time during which I look back at him and try my best to will him to agree with he, he finally says “Assume that you have my attention, that I am willing to believe you are sincere. What then?”

“Do as he expects you to. Don’t make him do something both of you will regret.”

“You know something you have not told me, clearly.” He says. “Your insistence that I ‘do as he expects me to’ makes that painfully obvious. Something we would both regret? A punishment then. You truly are terrible at this you know. The Orlesians would have you for breakfast.”

I shake my head and sigh at myself. “Yes, yes I am and yes they would.”

“Very well. An easy enough request to grant. I vow to do as my lord, Fen’Harel would wish me to do. There, will that satisfy?”

I smile weakly at him. “Only if you mean it.”

He eyes me for a moment, then nods slowly. 

“You know, I want to meet Briala some day. I think I would enjoy being her friend, if such a thing is possible.”

Felassan chuckles at this, “You are not much alike, although perhaps there is a similarity in your respective situations.”

“We don’t have to be alike to be friends.” I say. “Although she’ll probably eat me alive, being Orlesian and all.”

“Mmm,” Felassan says noncommittally.

I chuckle and lean back in my chair. “Well, I suppose I should let you get to sleep then. Please be careful.”

“I am always careful, except when I am not.” He stands up and gives me a bow only slightly less deep than the one he’d given to Solas earlier. “Until we meet again, my Lady.”

I stand and return his bow. Damned if I’m going to attempt a curtsy.

I’m about to focus my mind elsewhere in an attempt to leave, when he says, “Oh, one last thing. The others are not quite as friendly as I am. I do not believe they will harm you, but I would suggest you take care.”

I stare at him and as I’m about to ask him what he means, he vanishes into the Fade.

* * *

On a hunch, I leave the Crossroads and return to the clearing Solas had taken us to earlier. My couch has vanished, but everything else is the same. 

He appears before me.

“You heard it all?” I ask.

Solas nods and moves to embrace me. “How long until the passphrase is active?”

“Not long, a few days only. I can’t be completely sure, but not more than three or four.”

Solas nods and sighs.

“Oh, what did Felassan mean, about the ‘others?’”

“I’ll tell you in the morning. I promise you, it is nothing to concern yourself with.”

I nod. A moment of silence stretches between us before I ask, “You don’t mind what I said?” I lean into his arms and rest my forehead on his shoulder. 

“No, my heart.”

“I feel like you  _ should _ .” 

“Perhaps in another life, I would have.” He uses the tips of his fingers to tilt my head so that he can stare down into my eyes. “I believe you when you say that your only desire is to heal me. I wish, in a way, that this were not so. You should have your  _ own _ goals.”

“That  _ is _ my own goal. It’s what I want. What I’ve wanted for a long time. If I could have done it before now, I would have. If it had been possible that is.”

He leans down and kisses me, brushing his lips across mine. “Does what Felassan said concern you?”

“No, not at all.” I murmur. “He has no way of understanding what really exists between us. And I wasn’t about to explain.”

“So you do not believe that I could be deceiving you?” He asks. While his tone is teasing I can feel a faint current of worry in him.

“To that I’d have to ask, what would be the point? Why even bother to deceive me? There’s absolutely no reason to. Unless there’s some sort of strategic value to it.”

“But do you believe that I could, or would do it?” Solas presses.

I look at him, sample the emotions inside him. He lets them unfold and flow around me. He’s  _ anxious _ about this. 

“No, Solas. I don’t believe you would do it. But at the same time, I know that you will do what you must when it comes to your duty.”

He sighs, “That is what I thought you would say.”

“Are you upset about it?” I ask him, puzzled.

“No, my heart.” He holds my face and strokes his thumbs along the edges of my ears. I close my eyes and sigh in appreciation. “But I can’t help feeling as though it should be different. You should be able to say without any doubt, that I would  _ never _ deceive you, or use you.”

“Solas, that’s not the reality of the world we’re in.” I tell him gently. “I long ago realised that to be with you meant accepting what you need to do, and aiding you in any way that I could. I will never put you in the position of having to choose between me and your duty. As I have said before, I wouldn’t  _ want _ you to. Choosing me would go against who and what you are.”

And of  _ course _ what I feel inside him at that moment is sorrow. He’s not the type of person to be happy about this. He never has been. 

I reach my arms around his shoulders and hold him. “It’s alright, my love. One day, when all of this is over, we will be free to do and feel as we please.”

“I promise you Lyrial, that day will come. I will move the sky itself to make it so.”

I smile. Grandiose, but utterly heart-melting.

“Do what you need to do Solas, I’ll be with you.”

_ For as long as I can be. _

* * *

Sunlight warms my face. I open my eyes, blinking up at the early morning sky above our bed. I’m lying on my side, buried in the blankets. Solas is pressed up against my back, an arm draped across my hips.

I smile to myself as I remember the last time I woke up like this. 

I stay still for a time, listening to the gentle, slightly nasal breathing behind me. I love waking up slowly, always have. I enjoy the feeling of snuggling into warm bedding, feeling the softness and utter relaxation of being safe and comfortable. 

The added dimension of waking up with someone I love… god, it’s priceless. 

He’s still deeply asleep. It seems that he’s a slow waker, which makes perfect sense. So am I, generally. But this feeling is just too good to waste by going back to sleep. 

I shift slowly, and press myself more firmly against him. His arm flexes briefly and tightens around my hips. I grin to myself and close my eyes. I decide to catalogue all that I enjoy about this experience. 

The feeling of his warm skin against mine, in so many wonderful places. The softness of the sheets and the mattress beneath us. His breath on the back of my neck, and the sound it makes. The feeling of my muscles in this body, how lithe and powerful they are compared to my old body. 

But above all is the simple fact of being  _ here _ with him. 

I want to look at him.

I turn around slowly, repeating the process from that first day. I shift his arm with my movement. Eventually I’m lying facing him. The sunlight paints his features in golden light, gleaming off of his still face and eyelids. He’s so utterly, breathtakingly beautiful.

I watch him. Time passes with the sun as it rises higher in the sky. Watching Solas sleep is magical. 

Eventually his arm twitches again and his eyelids flicker open. He smiles as he looks into my eyes. 

“Good morning, my heart,” he says, voice thick with sleep.

“It is, quite, my love. A very good morning so far.”

He reaches for me and pulls me flush against him. His arms are around me and his face buried in my hair. He inhales deeply.

“Have I told you before, that you smell of the Fade?” Solas says.

“You may have, at some point. I hardly recall.” I return with a smile.

I run my hands down his flanks and pause on his hips. I gasp as I feel movement between us. “It seems you are well awake, my love.  _ All _ of you.”

“I am afraid I have little to do with that, the blame for that falls squarely on your shoulders.”

“I’m willing to take responsibility for this, if you insist. However, I believe going forward, anything we do will have to be a joint venture.”

He laughs into my hair, then moves to kiss me. His lips are soft and he parts them, inviting me in. I explore his mouth, feeling the growing need and desire in both of us. 

“I have a feeling this will be a good day,” I say, and reach down for him. 


	10. Deluge of Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all. I'm really sorry this chapter took so long to finish! I had a bit of a writing slump combined with a pinched nerve in my left arm. 
> 
> This chapter has been beta read by my wonderful and amazing friend Sulahn. She knows so much more than me! You can find her blog here: https://yolandiehorak.com/ and AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sulahn
> 
> I have edited this like a crazy person. Why did no one tell me how often I use the word 'feel'? Hehe
> 
> I hope you like it.

Sunlight warms me, caressing my skin with golden tongues of light. I arc in a lazy stretch, luxuriating in the interplay of muscles throughout my body. I slide my hand further beneath the blankets, searching for that firmness pressing against me.

Solas catches my wrist. “Not yet.”

His smile is enigmatic and mischievous. I pull against his grip and find it unbreakable.

“Why ever not?” I lick my lips.

“Because, my love, if we begin we will never stop. There are things I promised to show you, things you need to learn.”

I pout. “Oh, come now. Who says we can’t do those _things_ and enjoy this lovely bed too?”

Hunger flares to life inside him, flowing outward and engulfing me. I shudder as it washes over me and groan as I press myself against him.

“If I have you here, in my bed, I will not stop until I am sated.” Solas breathes into my ear.

“Yes,” I gasp the word. “Yes, please… please, Solas…”

Amusement threads through the hunger and he envelops me in a hug. I take the chance and wrap one hand around him, reaching down to stroke myself with the other.

Solas shudders as I touch him, running my palm up and down the length of him.

“My heart,” he says hoarsely.

“Shh… don’t. I want you _now_.”

He grunts and reaches downwards. I expect him to try to stop me but instead he snakes his hand along my own and touches me.

My vision blurs and I shut my eyes. He glides his fingers along my flesh, spreading what he finds. I squeeze him and a drop of wetness coats my knuckles.

He twitches his hips and moves in my grip.

Solas’ hand dances across me. He alternately skirts and rubs my most sensitive areas. He slips his fingers back and forth with no resistance.

I apply more pressure, doing what I know he likes.

I find his lips and taste him. He lifts his free hand between us and finds a nipple to tease. He devours my resulting moan and satisfaction spreads through him.

Then his touch vanishes completely and I snap my eyes open. His smile is darker now, intent. He grabs my waist and shifts himself further down my body. He grazes his lips across my skin as he goes, leaving a burning path of kisses along my neck and chest. He stops when he reaches my breasts and groans.

I caress his neck and begin stroking his ears.

He takes one of my nipples between his teeth with infinite care and uses his fingers to pinch the other. Then he covers my breast with his mouth and I’m gasping for air. He draws on my skin, sucking and nibbling. His fingertips rub and tweak my other nipple.

_Oh fuck, it’s good. This is the first time. Oh shit, we haven’t had the patience between us for this._

He massages me as he sucks. I squeeze my thighs together, seeking relief. I can’t reach myself with him against me. He pulls up and regards me.

His eyes burn with satisfaction. He’s smug. He takes each breast and presses them together so that my nipples are close together. He looks up at my face, smirks then opens his mouth to take both nipples at the same time. I keep my head angled so I can watch him.

He uses his tongue to play with me, circling one peak then the next. He makes me shudder when he sucks and leaves me gasping. Every time he pulls on me, heat flares between my legs.

_Shit, I genuinely am more sensitive than I was._

He slides on top of me and I’m on my back. He releases me with a small wet _pop_ and smiles.

“Enjoying yourself, my heart?” he asks.

I don’t trust myself to speak coherently, so I nod.

We both know he can _sense_ I’m enjoying myself.

_Fucking hell am I ever._

“Let’s see what else I can do for you…” Solas says.

His pace is lazy, unhurried. He slides his lips and tongue across the heaving skin of my stomach and continues downwards. My eyes widen as I realise what he has in mind.

I bolt upright. “Solas, I’ve never…”

“You have never what?” he asks.

“No one’s ever… well…” Warmth spreads across my cheeks.

His expression darkens somewhat but he smiles. “In that case, I am honoured to be your first.”

“What do I do?” I ask.

“Relax and trust me, my heart. You will enjoy this.” he says and leans closer.

My breath comes fast and shallow now. The blood pulses throughout my body, in time with my heartbeat. Heat enfolds me and perspiration glosses my skin.

My emotions are a jumble, there are so many I can’t even name them all. They’re Elvhen emotions and I’m definitely sure they _have_ names.

Solas coaxes my legs apart and rests his forearms on my inner thighs. He’s heavy and there’s an instant where I want to bring them together again.

I’m so vulnerable and _exposed_.

He gazes at me, not speaking for an age. Then pleasure and delight blossom inside him and he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“You are lovely, my heart and your scent is intoxicating.”

“What?” I squeak.

_God, that’s a wolf thing, right?_

I can smell him too, and he smells _so good_ . There’s that earthy, piney scent that makes me think of the woods and snow. And that musk that’s just _him._ Solas, my mate.

He lowers his head. His breath is hot and ticklish on my flesh, a delicious new sensation. He pauses and I shudder beneath him. Anticipation fills me and I jerk my hips, trying to raise myself to meet him.

His answering laugh is rich with pleasure and satisfaction but his hold on me is firm. He looks up and locks eyes with mine. The blue-grey storm in his eyes is dark, laced with purple.

Then _at last_ he lowers his mouth to me.

His lips brush me and I jump, but the pressure on my thighs keeps me still. He slides his tongue out, parting me, and runs it up the length of me.

I moan and slam my head backwards into the bedding. White edges my vision. But I want to _see_ , I want to watch him.

I prop myself up on my arms and manage an angle where I can see what he’s doing. He looks up into my eyes as his tongue parts me again.

The sight of him working me is the most erotic thing I have ever experienced. His tongue on my most tender flesh is beyond incredible. Then he presses his lips to the sensitive centre of me and _sucks_.

I cry out and my hips buck, but again, he restrains me.

_So good, so good good good. Ahhhh, shit!_

It’s an intensity of pleasure and sensation I have no way to describe. But it’s not the physical stimulation alone that brings moisture to my eyes. It’s the sheer, utter _intimacy_ of the act. This is more personal than the sex itself was.

He releases me and licks me again, running his tongue deeper inwards. The tip of it circles me, then presses against me.

“Solas.” His name is a moan or a prayer on my lips.

His tongue slides inside me.

“Ahhhh…” I sob and lose the strength in my arms. I slump back against the bed and bite my bottom lip.

I’m at his mercy. He’s controlling this but not blindly. He knows when the angle of his tongue is just right and when the pressure edges near my limit.

I sit up again to watch him. His eyes are closed and I know his sole focus is me and my pleasure. The flat of his tongue slides along me, the tip circles my sensitive centre with maddening precision. Then he plunges inside me again, licks along my opening and enters me, over and over again.

He works me, always careful to keep me from growing oversensitive. His tongue and lips and even teeth play with my flesh.

As I grow closer and closer to the edge, my own movements grow wilder. I’m only half aware of my body writhing beneath him, of the frantic pleas and cries that escape me. I’m wrapped in sensation, in bliss.

Then his tongue presses against me and he sucks me hard, one final time, and I’m lost.

He takes me through the shudders, easing me from the heights. My muscles spasm and I can’t imagine wanting to move. Waves of pleasure and completion rise from within me, buoying me.

Solas pulls himself up and lies facing me. I roll over and kiss him, tasting myself on him. Strange but not unpleasant.

“Thank you,” I say. “Please, do that any time the mood strikes you.”

“Is that a standing invitation?” he says and kisses me back. I take the time to kiss him fully, investing it with all my gratitude and delight.

“Oh yes,” I say. “Yes, please.”

Solas strokes my hair and kisses everywhere his lips can reach. I’m still twitching inside and small aftershocks pulse through me.

Then I remember _his_ desire.

“What of you?” I ask.

“Later, my heart,” he says. “As I said, once we begin I will be disinclined to stop. I am glad, for now, that I could give you what you needed.”

I frown. “But that isn’t fair.”

He laughs. “Nonsense, reciprocation is not a requirement. It was my pleasure to give you this experience. Why was this your first time though if I may ask?”

“No one before you was ever willing. Well… I was also far too shy to ask.”

“Then your previous lovers were inconsiderate and selfish.”

I grin and kiss him again. “Well, I won’t argue with that. Are you sure you don’t want me to..?”

“I will wait and enjoy the anticipation.” He glances up at the illusory sky. “The morning is all but spent, we should rise. There are things to do today.”

“I need to clean up,” I say. “Too bad your bath is so far away.”

He brushes his lips across mine, then says, “I have a small room here with a few amenities. We can both clean ourselves.”

“Oh thank goodness, you have an attached bathroom.”

“Indeed.” He slides off the bed. I watch him as he circles around it to the door nearest me. He’s still hard but is content to ignore it.

The door opens to a small room that looks, well… modern. It takes me a second to realise that’s _exactly_ right. Modern for Thedas at least although ancient in reality. If advanced magic is similar enough to advanced technology, then what difference is there? I’m sure there’s a saying like that.

Solas returns and hands me a damp cloth. I make use of it and then scrunch it up into a ball. I roll off the bed, then go to inspect the small room.

It’s a small en-suite bathroom, complete with what appears to be a toilet. Why, I have no idea. I’m not sure what our bodies do with waste but I haven’t needed to go since I woke up naked in a cave.

Which freaks me out a little if I’m honest.

I point at the supposed toilet and raise my eyebrows.

“Somewhat standard when furnishing this manner of room. Sometimes it was needed. I prefer to have one and _not_ need it…”

“That makes sense. At some point, I need the biology of this explained.” And as I finish speaking the metaphorical light bulb goes off in my brain.

For _some_ elvhen, people such as Solas and myself, those who possess a powerful link to the Fade, we are given everything we need to stay alive. This includes removing waste. We don’t need food or water or even oxygen. As long as our bodies are relatively inactive, we will stay alive. When we’re awake, we need to eat and drink only enough to make up for any expenditure of energy.

It must be how his People have survived Uthenera and the reason for Elvhen immortality. It’s a result of our permanent connection to the Fade. If our bodies can draw on the Fade to stay alive, then it makes sense that this is how the Elvhen avoid ageing. The Fade is pure energy that can be converted into whatever you can imagine. Every cell in the Elvhen body is connected to the Fade, so energy is drawn directly into the body. Cells don’t die unless they’re removed or would otherwise die naturally, as with hair only being alive at the root. If cells are damaged they are replicated as they were with no decay. This also affects our rate of healing. We can heal both more easily and swiftly with no scarring. Unless the wound is caused by magic or an enchanted weapon. This is not true for _all_ elvhen, not entirely. All had a conscious connection to the Fade that was strong enough to stop aging but not all were like us. There were physical and spiritual differences even amongst the People.

I’m dizzy and I lean out to catch myself against the wall.

What the fuck was that?

The information has appeared in my head with no slow transition of understanding. It’s as though a spotlight is suddenly on, revealing it. It’s entirely amazing, fascinating and relevant.

_But fuck, that was disorienting!_

“What happened?” Solas asks. He’s right beside me, watching me. No time has passed although it should have. What is probably _years_ worth of learning has popped into my head in an instant. It must have been because I thought about Elvhen biology. Why?

“I ah, seem to know all about it already.”

“That is… surprising,” Solas says. “What else do you know?”

“Everything I would want to know about Elvhen immortality and how the Fade keeps us alive. Solas… how? This isn’t magic. Why do I know this? Did Learning give it to me?”

“She must have. There is a possibility it  does relate to magical knowledge as a specific form of magic exists to which it would be pertinent.”

“What?” I ask.

Instead of answering, Solas takes both of my hands and turns me to face him. He places both palms down on his chest. I stare at him.

“Attempt to see inside my body,” he says. “Use your magic to sense me, if you can.”

“Um, how would I go about doing that?”

“Dwell on it. If the knowledge exists within you, it will reveal itself.”

I shrug and close my eyes. I think about seeing inside him, or sensing his body, or whatever he’s getting at. Vague thoughts of X-rays and sonograms flit through my mind. But when it comes it’s not what I expect.

My awareness expands and knowledge fills me yet again. Now, rather than sensing his emotions, I sense _him_. In my mind’s eye, a picture of him forms, whole and complete. Solas as he stands before me.

I flow along the surface of him, drifting across his pores and the fine, near invisible hairs that cover him. The entire surface of him is there. But that’s only the beginning.

I plunge into him and my senses flow throughout his body. In the time it takes for his heart to beat once, I know all of him. Every part that makes up his physical body. And there’s a wrongness.

The muscles inside his right shoulder and down his back are damaged. I know this. Stress or strain has torn them, and there’s bruising. I can tell that the injury is several days old and that it wouldn’t really bother him. Still, I don’t like that he’s wounded.

I draw on the Fade, bringing fine tendrils of magic to bear on him. They thread into him, seamless and near imperceptible. I weave them around the injury and the damage repairs itself. My magic provides everything his body needs for this to happen.

“Lyrial.”

I’m vaguely aware of him speaking to me. My attention is fixed on his body, on the flow of blood, nerves, muscle and bone.

“Lyrial, you may stop now.”

I blink and focus on his face. “Hmm? Sorry, I was just…”

“I am aware of what you were doing. Are you?”

My mouth drops open and my eyes go wide. Goose flesh shivers across my skin.

“Did I just _heal_ you?”

“Yes, you did. Thank you, but you should be careful for now. At least until you understand what you are now capable of. You appear to have even more surprises hidden within you.”

“Shit.” I breathe.

I look at him carefully and see he’s smiling, despite his cautionary tone.

“This is a good thing,” he says. “Magic that will be beneficial to you, to us.”

“I’m a healer? Not that I’m unhappy about this but I always pictured myself as an offensive spellcaster.”

“You are both,” Solas says.

I laugh. The wonder of it hits me. I healed Solas!

He wraps his arms around me and I press my face into the crook of his neck.

What _else_ can I do? What more did Learning give me in exchange for my knowledge? I want to get going and find out, as Solas suggested. I want to explore and learn more.

There’s a basin in here with a mirror mounted on the wall behind it. I pull away from Solas to go towards it. As I do, my awareness of his physical body vanishes. I stare at him.

“It requires contact, for now,” he says.

I nod. Of course, it does. I’d already known, but hadn’t known I knew.

I stare down at the basin, wanting water. Solas passes his hand over it and the basin fills. I smile in thanks and splash my face.

“This is incredible,” I say.

He laughs. “Yes, it most certainly is, more than you know. I’m glad you’re pleased.”

“Yes, very much so!”

Solas does the same beside me. Then he brings up his hands and passes them across his scalp, from his forehead to the nape of his neck. The small amount of magic he’s used is a tingle across my mind.

“Did you just… shave?” I ask.

He glances at me. “Of course.”

Being able to witness Solas shave his head with magic makes me almost giddy. I’m a part of his life! I have the privilege of seeing him complete his morning routine. It’s a small thing but _seeing_ it is amazing.

My own familiar unfamiliar face stares back at me from the mirror. My hair is long enough and straight but there’s no styling to it. I’d like to change that.

“Can you do that so it doesn’t remove all the hair, just shaves it quite close?”

“Yes.” He reaches out and runs his fingers through my hair. “What did you have in mind?”

“I don’t want to cut it all… a little around my ears? An undercut? I’ve never had one and it’s a day for ‘firsts.’”

“Easily done, my heart.”

I show him how much and that I want more off my left side. The hairstyle I’d given Lavellan looked great. Too short, but the undercut was fantastic.

Solas moves his hands over the areas of my scalp I’ve indicated. The magic tingles and locks of hair fall to the floor. When he’s done, I push my hair to the right, so it flips over as it should.

I’m so proud to be an elf and _love_ how exposed my ears are. I want the world to see it and know even if that won’t always be a good thing. The bold statement Dalish vallaslin makes would be nice if it weren’t for the meaning behind the blood writing.

“It suits you,” he says. “And I approve of the pride that swells within you.”

I grin and face him. “I want every person who looks at me to know what I am. You know how much being an elf means to me. Out of everything I have been given, this is the most important.”

“You are Elvhen, my heart. That you value this so highly is… everything to me. While the People have lost sight of what that means, you exult in it.”

“Uh-uh Solas, that isn’t fair.” I say. “I have every reason to be happy about this and I know enough to value it. They don’t.”

“And yet they _should._ The Dalish glorify the misremembered fragments of a past they barely understand. I do not even need mention the depths to which the city elves have fallen.”

“No no no, not now. Please, love, not now. We can talk about this later. If we get into this discussion, we’ll be here all day.” I sigh and then smile at him while running my hands across his chest. “There are more interesting things we could do with a day.”

I know how easily this topic gets to him. He looks back at me for a moment, then smiles and kisses me. I reach up and hold the back of his head, keeping him there. We take the time to thoroughly enjoy the kiss before parting.

“One last question, Dread Wolf,” I say and poke his bare chest. “Do you have something for me to wear? If not I can always use a blanket…”

Solas chuckles “I may do, yes. As long as you don’t mind the style being rather antiquated.”

I raise an eyebrow. “As opposed to what, naked? I’m sure my current level of fashion is as out of date as it gets. Whatever you would have worn will be years ahead of modern day Thedas.”

“Something like that.”

There’s so much eagerness in him. And anticipation. He leads me from the small bathroom to the other door.

He quirks his lips at me, opens the door and gestures for me to precede him. I shrug and do just that. As the lights begin shining in the room, I’m hit with the impression that I’ve walked into an upmarket clothing boutique.

My feet plunge into the luxurious green carpeting and the space is huge, bigger than the bedroom itself.

Racks and shelves line every wall. Many filled with clothing suspended from some kind of hanger. Different styles of shoes take up an entire section of one wall, and accessories line another.

I have trouble absorbing it all.

I shiver as I walk inside, eyes wide. The centre of the room has more storage, low tables and armoires and soft seating.

And the _clothing_.

I’m not much of a fashionista. No. My preferred casual wear when not at the office is a pair of loose jeans and a t-shirt, or hoodie if the weather allows. Sandals in the summer and Vans or boots in the winter. I’ll wear something fancy if I’m going out to a nice restaurant or a formal occasion but it’s uncomfortable. It’s always a relief when I get home and change.

The garments filling every inch of storage space in here are works of art. I pace along the nearest wall, looking at them, afraid to touch them. One shirt catches my eye. It’s soft, made of what looks to be cotton. At first, it appears to be a patterned fabric, but when I lean in for a closer look I gasp. The pattern comprises hundreds, or thousands of tiny beads sewn into the cloth. Each bead is no bigger than a grain of salt. I can’t work out how this was accomplished.

“Do not hesitate to examine anything here,” Solas says.

I turn to him, unable to moisten my mouth. “What is all this?”

Solas turns around to encompass the room. “A… tribute of sorts. Perhaps it would be more accurate to call it an oblation.”

“From whom?” I ask as I continue to walk around the room. I’m gawking. This is incredible!

Solas keeps pace with me, pausing when I do. His hands are behind his back in his ‘explaining’ pose.

“Not every freed slave was willing, nor capable, of fighting. I did not free them only to conscript them. I gave them a choice, which was their right. No few decided to fight their former oppressors, but many others chose a life of peace, such as it was.”

He stops before a rack which contains clothing in many shades of gold, brown, green, white and black. Colours I’ve come to know are his favourites. He removes a shirt from the rack, long and a plain white, but sewn with such care it forms a lump in my throat.

“Those who chose not to fight wished to express their gratitude in other ways, according to their various skills. And thus, you see before you a measure of their efforts.”

He removes the hanger and slips the shirt on. It’s long, going down past his waist. The sleeves are full but gathered at the wrists. It reminds me of his shirt from a certain illustration.

As I watch the shirt seems to adjust itself. I’m sure for a moment that my eyes have played a trick on me, but when I blink and stare I know I’m not imagining it. The shirt fits him more closely now.

“So this was all made by them?”

His smile is sad and there’s a gravity to the way he holds himself as his gaze sweeps across the room. “Yes. Most spent years refining a single garment until they were satisfied that it was fit for their ‘god’. In truth, I could not wear even half. Most of what you see here is unworn. I keep the garments I favour in this small section here.”

“But they made it all, just for you, to show you their gratitude? Surely you could have found the time to wear everything at least once?” A tear spills down my cheek. My chest is heavy at the thought of what must have inspired this effort. This was all made with love for the person who’d freed them from slavery. I can’t imagine the labour that went into it all. The sheer amount of time spent to make even one item of clothing is staggering.

Solas says, “Though I appreciated every item, I could not find the time to do so. Most often I wore armour. As the years progressed, I found less and less time for casual or otherwise frivolous clothing.” His smile turns wry as he looks at me. “And truthfully, not all of it matches my personal taste.”

I laugh and wipe my eyes. “That’s fair enough. But… it’s all so beautiful and deserves to be worn. It should be seen and appreciated for the art it is.”

“Very true. Therefore, you are free to select whatever you would like.”

I stare at him. “But that would be wrong. It was made for _you_.”

“Which is a worse crime, Lyrial? For it to remain forever in darkness because I have not the time nor occasion to wear it all? Or for you, my mate, to display a fraction of it yourself?”

“Uh…” He has me there. Still, it’s like sacrilege for me to wear, or even touch any of it.

“It won’t be in my size,” I say, trying for one more excuse.

Solas laughs. “The cut of the fabric, the size of each garment, means nothing. Each article of clothing and accessory here has been enchanted so it will fit the wearer, no matter what size or shape they are. What would be the point of spending years on a garment if the intended recipient were to gain or lose weight and could no longer wear it?”

“Oh, well, all right. But what if I damage it? This is all so valuable!”

“It has also been enchanted to resist wear and damage. All Elvhen were immortal. This clothing was meant to last hundreds of years. Come now, my heart, stop trying to find a reason not to accept my offer.”

“Fine, fine.” There’s only so much awe I can express about the clothing. I may as well accept it and enjoy. I move to shelving containing pairs of leggings, trousers and so on. I reach out and run my fingers over a few. Every single centimetre of fabric and material is smooth, soft and of the finest craftsmanship I have ever experienced. I choose a pair of dark, almost black, trousers and pick them up. They’re not a true black but have been infused with something that gleams in the light. The effect is of a partially matte malachite. They’re big, but I trust Solas and slip them on. As I draw them up, they shrink around me. It’s disconcerting, but they stop at the point where the fit is so perfect it’s as though I were wearing nothing at all. Only a soft weight around my legs tells me I am clothed. There’s nothing to fasten either, due to the way they’ve been enchanted. I realise I should have asked for undergarments, but decide that going commando is the least of my problems.

Solas walks up behind me holding a shimmering blue tunic. It’s long and slit down either side. The fabric looks like the night sky soon after dusk. The top part starts at a brighter hue but then fades into midnight towards the bottom. Silver thread is sewn into the hems and faint glints across the tunic mimic stars. The style is like that of Solas’ own shirt.

“I think this would suit you,” he says as I stare at it.

The fabric is breathtaking. There are almost two sections to it, an over tunic and an attached, tighter one beneath it.

“Hold up your arms, if you please.”

He slips the tunic over my head and it settles around me. It shrinks down and I’m once again uncomfortable for the moment. There’s a second where it’s like the magic is about to keep going and I sigh with relief when it stops.

The cut is perfect. I’ve never worn tailored clothing and wearing a perfectly sized garment is incredible.

Solas steers me towards a full-length mirror in a corner and I stare at myself. In awe. Yes, in awe. With my new haircut and clothing, I look like I’ve stepped out of a story.

_Which, well… yes._

It’s not me... and it is. I’m getting used to the idea of this being me now. Of that face being mine. But the clothing elevates it all to another level.

I have a moment of disconnect. My inside, my _self_ , does not match what I see in the mirror. I still think of myself as ordinary. Another average person going about their average life. Nothing special. The woman in the mirror looks like a dream. An ideal version of the person I’d want to be.

_Which it is. After all, why can’t I be her? Why can’t I have the most extreme makeover possible? Literally reinvent myself from the ground up._

I run my hands down the tunic, smoothing imaginary creases in the fabric. I turn to the left, then the right, eyeing my reflection.

“For a moment I’d wondered if I had done something wrong,” Solas says. “But I know you are content now, at the least. Are you willing to tell me which thoughts lead to those emotions?”

“More of the same,” I reply. “It doesn’t look like me. Too beautiful and fantastical. But I believe I’m getting over it.”

When I look back I see that he’s now fully dressed. He’s put his own trousers on, soft deep-brown leather. He’s also wearing a long sleeveless vest-tunic combination over his shirt. It’s a dark green and covered in abstract embroidery that reminds me of his frescoes.

“Add a flowing robe and staff and you’d be just about ready to pop out of one of your own paintings,” I tell him.

I reach around his waist and step in as close as I can.

He reciprocates, embracing me and looks down with a raised eyebrow. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Not in the slightest.” I tilt my head and kiss him. “Thank you for this. It’s special to me, regardless of your fussy reasoning.”

“My reasoning is sound, whatever you may think.” He kisses me back.

I happily submit to spending a length of time like that. The term ‘making out’ has always sounded odd to me, ‘snogging’ too. But I can’t get enough of it with him. He’s such a good kisser. He does it with his whole body. His arms make me feel safe and supported as he leans forward with me.

But it’s not only his arms and lips and tongue. It’s him, his spirit, teasing me with gentle nudges. It’s so strange and intimate, a whole separate world and way of being. I uncurl myself somehow and reach out to him. We don’t rest like that as I expect, but instead, he uses the opportunity to reach _into_ me. My own feelings enter him simultaneously.

My eyes snap open in shock. A sliver of my spirit nestles inside him, just as a part of his is within me. It’s a warmth, a tingling, foreign presence that somehow belongs utterly, shaped perfectly to fit inside me. As though it were a part of myself I had been unaware I was missing until now.

“Wha-?” I start.

“Shh,” Solas says. “Do not speak, it is unnecessary. Feel me, my heart, as I can feel you.”

And I _can_ , and it’s _ecstasy_ . The sensation is glorious but has nothing to do with physical pleasure. It’s completion, comfort, acceptance, belonging and joy all wrapped up in a blanket of sensation that touches my very spirit. Solas kisses me again and arousal is added to the mix. But it’s not _my_ arousal, it’s his. His desire for me burns in us both and I can almost sense my own lips pressed against his. There’s a ghost of him along my senses. And I’m there on the other side of him. My skin is soft and warm against his, my body so willing. It’s faint, the barest brush of a feather, but it’s real. I’m feeling my own body _though_ him.

He pulls back and rests his forehead against mine. His eyes are closed. I know that without needing to see. We breathe in deeply for a time. He’s struggling to calm himself. For my part, I’m fighting the urge to tear those beautiful clothes off of him.

_What will sex be like now? Shit._

As we stand together, the connection dims. In heartbeats, it’s diminished to the point where he’s gone. All I can sense are his emotions as I have from the beginning.

The loss is an almost physical blow. I clutch at Solas and he returns the urgent embrace.

“What…” I try again.

“It is something I had barely hoped for,” he says. His voice is hoarse, filled with complex layers of emotion. “The beginning of something more between us.”

I rub my chest, remembering the warmth of him inside me. “What does it mean?”

“It is the start of a Joining. A bond between beings dependent on the willingness of at least one to entrust themselves to the other. For that to be accepted along with all it entails. There are countless permutations as complex and multifaceted as each individual conscious being.”

It’s obvious who between us is the one willing to give themselves to the other. But _he_  started it. It’s Solas who knew about it and clearly wants it.

“Was that always going to happen?”

He shakes his head. “I suspected it might, but I was not certain.”

“Are you okay with this though? Is this dangerous in any way? Are you sure you’re willing to share yourself with me like that?” He’s about to respond but I press a finger to his lips. “Solas, you have known me for only a few days. Being your mate is one thing, but this… this is even more unlike you. How can you be so eager? From the way Felassan reacted to the ‘mate’ thing I can surmise that you’re very much the loner. Everything I know about you supports this. Is this safe for you? What if I could be used against you?”

His eyes are dark, expression grave as he regards me. “Are you certain you know me as well as you think?”

His words are an echo of what Felassan had said. “No. I know that all my knowledge of you reflects only what you chose to reveal about yourself.”

“Then you cannot declare that I would not embrace this.”

“True.” I look at him for a moment, then shake my head. “Then maybe the problem is with me. This is too good to be true. As though I were trapped in the Fade with a Desire demon trying to tempt me with everything I could want.”

“Everything?”

“Yes. A way of being with you, a way to be sure you won’t leave me. This is all so amazing and perfect. How can it be anything other than a dream?”

“You may feel that way now, my heart. But I assure you that life here will not be filled with wonder alone. We will soon have to face what has become of this world. We will no doubt witness many deplorable things.” He takes my face in both of his hands and gazes into my eyes. “And I will _not_ be leaving you. This is my choice to make and I gladly do so. We are both aware of the path I follow. We both know what must be done. You have shown me you intend to aid me in every way you can. What cause could I have to want to leave you? You are my mate.”

Whatever reason the past, future version of Solas had for leaving Lavellan has no bearing on us. He had been about to tell her, spill all his secrets and possibly even give up on his duty. To save himself and hold fast to his purpose, he had left her.

The differences here are many and striking. I’d always known the solution to staying with Solas was to give him what he needed. Provide no conflict between what he wants and what he needs to do.

And more than that, can I blame a drowning man for clinging to something that promises relief?

This love has been a spark in the dryest tinder. A conflagration that has arisen and consumed us both. The flame is made of Solas and myself, our irresistible need for each other. He had been so, so alone. Lost and hurting in a world made of his darkest nightmares. A world where his people can barely remember themselves. Where they see him only as the darkest of their gods. The trickster and deceiver who had imprisoned the better, _nicer_ gods. Everything twisted and broken. Spirits bound by ignorant children. Magic a mere shadow of what it had been. Short-lived humans subjugating and enslaving what’s left of the People.

And then I came along.

I have no ulterior motives. I mean it with every particle of my being when I tell him I love him and want to help him.

The wondrous thing is that he _believes_ me.

“There is no reason I can think of. I want this Solas. I had no idea how much until it was gone. Can we do it again? Can it last longer?”

His smile is transcendent. Happiness flows out of him in waves. “Yes my heart, yes we can.” He clears his throat. “The appropriate and easiest time to establish the link is during intercourse, for reasons that are self-evident.”

“My love, less clinical and more romantic, if you please.”

His lips stretch into a grin. “Very well. As your soft flesh yields to mine, as you grow wet with want for me, we can repeat what we have just done. I will enter you, over and over, and all your walls and reservations will dissipate. As you accept me deep inside yourself, as you cry out my name and the pleasure consumes you, I will Join with you. My own defences will be gone, my spirit seeking to connect with yours in every way. You will be hot and tight and so very wet around me. I will feel you beneath me, set my lips and tongue to your breasts and strive to pleasure you. As our bodies mingle so will our Spirits and, if we are fortunate, we will be Joined.”

_Oh shit, that was hot!_

I bite my lip as a flush spreads across my body. Does that count as ‘dirty talk’? It does. Oh _hell_ yes. A litany of beautiful filth in a tone of voice that has me melting.

_Fuck fuck fuck, I want him so badly._

I want to jump him and have him right here on the carpet.

“You asked for that, my heart,” Solas says. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look more wolfish.

“Give me a reason we can’t do that here and now.” I breathe.

He laughs. “We have many things to do today, my love.”

“Screw that, I want nothing more than _you_ right now.”

“Are you sure of that?” he asks. “I thought perhaps we could visit my armoury and you could select a staff for yourself. Is that not something you would enjoy?”

I squeeze my eyes shut and try counting to ten. I take a few deep breaths for good measure.

“I can control myself,” I say but I know I sound like a petulant child. “Much as I’d rather _not_ , all things considered. But let’s get on with it. The sooner we’re done the sooner I can get you back into bed.”

“I relish the thought of that,” he says. “Now, something for your feet, my heart, and a warm cloak. We’re going outside soon and you will need your mana for other things.”

He finds me a pair of black leather foot wraps and a warm grey, fur-lined cloak for later. It’s too warm to wear so I opt to carry it.

It’s hard to keep my mind off what he’d described. Of the sensation of being one with him. Especially when there’s a hunger inside of him that matches mine. He wants to pursue that, whatever it was. ‘Joining’ he’d called it.

But he’s also content to wait.

We leave the closet and bedroom behind and he leads me through the corridors once again.

“I’ll need time to get my head around this place,” I say. “I’d like to know where everything is.”

Solas doesn’t turn around as he says, “You will have time. It only seems at the moment as though we have none to spare. I assure you we will reach a point when you will chafe at being idle.”

“I look forward to it, my love.”

There are still many doors and passages we pass as we walk.

_Just how big is this place?_

My idea of the actual size of Skyhold itself is warped by my skewed perception of it. I’m convinced that it’s bigger than the game had shown me and so, this underground manse also has to be more expansive. There’s also no reason there couldn’t be multiple levels to it. I have to wonder what Solas needed all this space for if he was the only person to live here. Had it been habit? Make it big because you _can_?

Solas stops outside a set of closed double doors.

“Before we enter, I must ask you to not touch anything unless I say otherwise. It is not my intent to treat you as a child, my heart. There are many things in this room that could be dangerous to those who lack a full understanding.”

I cross my arms and look at him, smiling. “Right, keep my hands to myself. Got it. To be honest Solas, I’m not likely to touch anything unfamiliar, I’m not that foolish.”

“And I did not say you were, but a word of caution was appropriate.”

He kisses me on the cheek then pushes the door open.

This room is _very_ large.

It’s full of furniture and seems to be divided into two distinct sections. One side looks like a cross between a workshop and an office. Papers, scrolls, books and writing implements lie scattered across a desk. Strange items made of metal, crystal and other things sit in haphazard heaps.

Benches line the walls there, many with unfinished projects. There’s a staff held in something that looks like a clamp made of crystal. Jewellery lies next to delicatel metal implements or tools.

There’s too much to take in, I need more time. And I’m not even at the best part.

The other side of the room is an actual armoury. The kind with racks, mannequins, cabinets, display cases and all.

And there, right ahead of me on a mannequin, is something that makes me stop in my tracks and stare. It’s _that_ armour. The set I’d only seen in one very specific time and place.

Is it possible for a suit of armour to be more intimidating than the man who wears it? Yes, apparently. I swallow and a pit opens in my stomach.

I sense Solas walk up and stop alongside me.

“What is the matter?”

I shake my head and try to swallow. How do I explain this? Then again, he’s already seen my reaction to his woollen tunic. Maybe this won’t be altogether strange.

“That armour,” I say. “I’ve only seen you wear it once before and it wasn’t… the best time for me. Or the Inquisitor.”

He’s still for a moment, then walks ahead to stand next to the mannequin. His emotions are hard to read. There’s sympathy for me, a near constant now when it comes to these situations. But also something like pride and anticipation and a heaviness. Duty or sorrow? I’m not sure.

Elvhen emotions. I know I’m feeling them myself now and I can sense them in Solas, but mostly, I’m content to let them happen. When I’m more familiar with them, I’ll sit down with Solas and make notes.

“Come here, my love,” Solas says.

I take a deep breath and walk over to him.

He removes a gauntlet from the mannequin and offers it to me. “The best way for you to overcome this is to wear it yourself, or at least part of it.”

I gape at him, then look down at the proffered gauntlet. I reach out and take it from him, holding it as though it could shatter in my hand.

It’s very light. I balance it on my palm, trying to get an idea of its weight. It’s as though it were made from tin.

_Huh._

Actually, the heaviest part appears to be the leather beneath the golden metal.

“Hold out your arm,” Solas says. I do so and he takes the gauntlet from me and places it on my hand. He tightens a few straps and I experience that shrinking sensation as I did with the clothing. The metal and leather resize themselves to fit me.

And then it’s done. I’m wearing the right-hand gauntlet of what I call, in the privacy of my own head, his Fen’Harel armour.

It’s an intricate construction of gold and silver coloured metal, chainmail and leather. The silver metal is silverite, that’s obvious enough, as is the chainmail. The leather inside the mail is supple and not overly thick. I expect to have difficulty moving my fingers but there’s little, overall. The gauntlet is articulated and moves with my hand. The strangest part is the silverite section that flares out from the back of my hand up towards my wrist. A guard of some kind.

I wiggle my fingers and then make a fist.

“Is the fit correct?” he asks.

“It’s amazing,” I say. “I can’t believe how light this is! And how supple.”

“And how do you feel wearing it?”

Some of that intimidation is gone. It’s only armour, after all, and wearing it makes me more a part of what it represents.

Solas. Fen’Harel.

“Apart from trying not to gush about how amazing this is, fine actually.”

Solas taps the silverite guard. “You know what this metal is?”

I nod.

He then traces his finger to mine, to the golden metal. “And this?”

“No idea. I’ve not seen gold metal like this in Thedas… other than actual gold. But if this were gold it would be much, much heavier.”

“This is aurite, an alloy made from infusing silverite with lyrium. It is especially beneficial for mages and easily bears powerful enchantments.”

“You’re kidding? Lyrium? Apart from how that was even possible, how do you get gold from mixing silver and blue?”

“Something about the procedure burnishes the metal, resulting in the golden hue. As to how it was possible, the process was difficult and costly even in my time.”

Solas takes my gauntleted hand and grips it. There’s a slight pressure but from the whitening of the skin around his knuckles, I can tell he’s squeezing hard.

“That’s incredible, I can hardly feel it!” I say.

He lets go of my hand and smiles at me. “That would be the point, yes.”

I lean towards him and give him a soft kiss before pulling back. “Thank you for this, now how do I get it off?”

He shows me how and replaces it on the mannequin. I have another chance to look around. There are other mannequins I’d not noticed in my preoccupation with the golden armour. They each bear similar sets with slight variations in design or appearance. None of them have the gravitas of his Fen’Harel armour though, and definitely seem lesser.

The section containing racks of staffs catches my eye and causes excitement to well up inside me.

I’ve never been a cosplayer. Never had the confidence for it. The creativity of it has always amazed and delighted me, and I will admit to envy at how amazing people look in full costume.

But… I love the idea of owning a mage staff. I love the look of them, the idea and the symbolism. A mage staff is a purely fantastical item and has no correlation to the actual staves a martial artist uses. It’s the tool of a spellcaster, a wizard… a mage. It’s always unmistakable, regardless of the world from which it originates.

Every staff in this room is a thing of beauty. They are clearly all weapons but are also works of art. They range from simple, carved wood with few embellishments all the way up to intricate constructions of metal, crystal, magically shaped wood and precious stones.

There’s a lot here. More than Solas could or should need for himself. There are sections containing more mundane weapons and armour as well as cases displaying jewellery and other items.

“Why do you have all this?” I ask.

His bearing changes as he surveys the room and its contents. His back is rigid, posture straight and tall. “I had an army to outfit, my heart. Due to the nature of my own abilities, it was more efficient for me to create the necessary equipment than it was for others. I am not responsible for crafting much of what remains here, but it was far easier for me to imbue these items with the appropriate enchantments myself.”

“And that workshop over there?”

“I did make certain things when time allowed. But it was more for the sake of experimentation and personalising my own equipment.”

“Uh-huh. There’s so much here though.”

“Events became… chaotic. I could no longer afford the time and energy to devote to this. I had other things which claimed my focus.”

“Oh… yes, of course.” I sigh.

Solas removes one of the nicer looking staffs from its place. It’s long and made of a cool grey metal. The tip is formed in the shape of a branch which spirals around an orb of black stone.

He holds it and his magic swells inside him. It’s as though the staff is sucking his mana into itself. But after a moment he sighs and replaces the staff.

“I am not yet strong enough to use it,” he explains when I look at him, eyebrow raised.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

_Level requirements can’t bloody well be an actual real thing!_

“A staff acts as an amplifier yes, but is also a weapon in its own right. It is capable of allowing a mage to attack using its elemental enchantment in lieu of casting a spell. However, it requires that the wielder invest a portion of their mana in the staff while attuned to it.” He pats the grey metal. “This one requires more mana than I currently possess in total.”

“So… there’s a good chance neither of us can use these now?”

“Unfortunately.” He moves along the rack and pulls out one of the plainer ones. “This one should be suitable. If you are wondering why I have such an array, it is because the men and women wishing to fight for me were not all equally skilled.”

“But… wasn’t everyone a mage?”

Solas laughs. “Oh my heart, that depends on your definition of what a ‘mage’ is.”

I frown. “Someone who can use magic, obviously.”

“And in a world where everyone could use magic to a greater and lesser extent?”

“Ah, right. So the definition would be different. So then… a mage was someone who was especially skilled or talented?”

“Yes, or someone who had been trained. Although, even amongst those who learnt the use of magic, there were differences. Some mages were more naturally talented than others.”

“Like you.”

“Yes.” He grimaces. “Like me… and the Evanuris.”

Solas weighs the staff, bouncing it on his palms. It’s made of a pale wood, something like pine. Its fittings are all relatively plain if well made. It has dark leather grips, a short blade like a spear on one end and a chunk of something like clear blue-ish quartz on top.

He hands it to me and I take it reverently. It has a comforting weight to it, not heavy but substantial.

“This one is enchanted with cold, my heart. To attune to it, focus your mana through it. It’s not a difficult process.”

_Alright, here goes nothing._

I concentrate on the staff and try to connect with it. Immediately I can feel something in it respond. There’s a sort of metaphysical _click_ and part of my mana flows inside the weapon. The crystal at the top brightens with the barest hint of a glow.

“Well done,” Solas says. He removes another staff made of a darker wood and holds it for a moment. “This will have to do for now.”

“I’m still not sure I understand why they have these restrictions,” I say. “Can’t you make them so that they don’t?”

“Think of it as a matter of weight. A warrior who has begun his training cannot hope to wield a weapon that is too heavy for him. Conversely, a seasoned veteran might swing something the other could barely lift.”

He illustrates this by swinging his staff in a wide arc. “I have told you that your mana reserve is like a muscle, and as such it will grow stronger as you do.”

“Then why are you so weakened? I’ve never understood it when you are clearly the most experienced mage alive right now.”

Solas shrugs but I can sense the unease inside him. “I do not know. It is a mystery I would like to solve. It is similar to having been very ill. As though my body needs time to recover. Do you understand what I mean?”

I nod. “Yes, I do. I’ve been sick before, quite badly. I had a… a sickness of the lungs when I was younger. It took me a very long time before I was able to climb a flight of stairs without being short of breath.”

“Exactly so,” Solas says. He leans his weight on his staff and then grins at me. “Now, my heart, it is time for you to practise. For this we will need to go outside. After all, I would prefer that you not set our home on fire.”

I stick out my tongue at him but inside I’m aflame with excitement.

_Now, this is what I’ve been waiting for!_

 


	11. Imperfect Dreams

The cold pinches me through the warm cloak Solas has given me. I glance up at the sky, speckled with white wisps of cloud. Though the sun is shining, scant warmth finds its way to the ground. Snow is heaped up in deep drifts around the courtyard glistening pristine and perfect in the midday light.

Solas and I stand silently regarding the ruins of the Keep. The urgency from yesterday has passed, allowing him the chance to appreciate the change time as wrought. He’s surprisingly unphased by it, however. Yesterday he’d been dismayed at the thought of what he loved being ravaged by the ages, but now he’s indifferent. Finding the hidden underground section intact must have alleviated his bitterness somewhat.

“Do you want to have a look around?” I flick some snow off my boot. “There’s much still intact.”

“There is no need.” He strides along the base of the wall towards the stables. “What remains above is of no importance to me.”

I’m more myself now than I was yesterday. The air of desolation that shrouds Skyhold no longer touches me as it had. My familiarity and attachment to the Keep has been eclipsed by my perception that the place beneath us is home, not here.

I squeeze my fingers around the leather grip of my staff and follow Solas.

We’re in the clear area near the corner stairs leading up to the battlements. There’s less rubble here. Solas fiddles with a plank of decaying wood which he’s propped against the wall. He rises to survey his handiwork, then returns to stand alongside me.

“We shall use that as a makeshift target, for now.”

I eye the flimsy, blackened wood and shrug. “As you say, my heart. What should I do first?”

“Our intent here is to determine what you are now capable of,” he says. “You should know all the essential theory of the various elemental magics. This should cover their uses in combat as well as their utilitarian aspects.”

His posture is relaxed, weight resting on his staff. It’s like a part of him. He shifts it with his own body as an extension of his limbs. The sunlight is bright on his green vest and glitters on the golden thread in the embroidery. The faint shimmer of his barrier against cold is apparent to my magical senses but nothing is evident to the naked eye.

My mana hums inside my staff but I’m not certain how to hold it. I can use it to make magical attacks, supposedly. I’ve observed enough arcane combat to have a general idea of how it should work. But how to trigger it escapes me.

“What do you want me to do?” I ask.

“As you have previously done. Think about using magic as a weapon and we will ascertain if the knowledge resides within you.”

“What type of magic should I choose?” I pass the staff to my other hand. “If I’m not specific, I could be shown everything all at once.”

“Select one, my love. It does not matter which. Any one of the elements would be appropriate. You are already aware that fire, frost and electricity are the simplest to conjure.”

The tactical aspects of the various elemental magics come to me. Fire against the undead, cold against living targets, electricity against most other things. I don’t need to consider that yet. The best magic right now would likely be frost. I _hope_ that I’m not about to fight any undead soon. Facing bandits and other living enemies will be less awful if I’m able to freeze them in their tracks.

I let the idea of fighting with frost magic suffuse my thoughts, seeing in my mind’s eye the various ways it has been used in different worlds.

The uncomfortable sensation of knowledge tearing into my consciousness comes again. I desperately grasp at the simpler ideas, trying to bring them forward. I don’t need every possible way of attacking with cold right now, just the basics.

Chill mountain air fills my lungs as I take a moment to collect myself. “I have what I need.”

Solas gestures at the target. “I suggest you begin by casting a simple offensive spell. You need, above all, to familiarise yourself with using magic. It must become intuitive, something you reach for _instinctually_. From now on, I believe it would be beneficial for you to do everything with magic, to the limits of your mana.”

“You’re serious? _Everything_ _?_ ”

He chuckles. “Yes indeed. I would that you reach a point where the use of magic is a reflex, something you do without the need for conscious thought. You will only accomplish this by immersing yourself in magic, making it a part of all you do. This will have the additional benefit of improving your magical stamina and mana capacity.”

“By everything, what exactly do you mean? That’s a little vague.”

“We will discuss that later, my heart. For now, we will focus on your combat ability.”

Solas alters his position, facing the wooden target at an angle, staff held diagonally across his body. “Stand as I do. This is an elementary combat stance. When you cast, direct your magic _through_ your staff. It will amplify and focus the spell, allowing you to strike your intended target with greater ease.”

Power flares inside him, coursing into his staff in less than a heartbeat. A narrow bolt of flame erupts from the end, shooting towards the plank only to sizzle against the sodden wood.

I gape at the scorch mark, my own staff forgotten. He’d just thrown fire, _magic_ fire conjured from the Fade! I shiver as the thrill of it grips me. Real magic!

“It is your turn Lyrial. You have the sense of how it should be done now.”

I nod, working my parched mouth. I alter my stance, copying Solas.

The knowledge of how to draw frost from the Fade is inside me. I know all the technical aspects of it, how it _should_ go. But theory and practice… well, they’re often two separate things.

It’s all imagination and willpower. I created my own flame not two days ago, with no knowledge of what I was doing or how.

_I can do this._

I pull magic from the Fade and it courses through my connection and into my body. It flows along my spirit, seeking an outlet. Strength and power and sheer possibility blossom inside me, waiting for me to shape it.

I form the idea of what I want in my mind and then _will_ it into being.

Power flares from me into my staff and a shard of jagged ice streaks away from me. It smashes against the stonework a metre wide of the plank and shatters, scattering splinters of ice.

His touch is warm on my upper arm as he squeezes it. He’s pleased with me, with my progress. “Well done my heart, an excellent first strike. Although, we should attempt to improve your aim.”

I grin at him like a fool and warmth spreads across my cheeks. Joy fills me and overflows, spreading to engulf Solas. The delight of this is beyond words.

I don’t wait for him to direct me again but instead turn towards the target. This time the ice strikes the wall closer to the plank. Doggedly, I redouble my effort, casting over and over until I’m hitting the target more often than not. The rotting wood soon splits apart and thuds to the ground, embedded with shards of glittering ice.

I gulp freezing air. The exertion is taking its toll on me. I blink sweat out of my eyes and wipe my forehead.

“Rest for the moment.” Solas turns me to face him and places both hands on my shoulders. “You have done wonderfully.”

I nod and rest the bladed end of my staff on the snowy ground. “Though it’s only well against a _stationary_ target.”

“We all have to begin somewhere, my love.”

I beam at him. “Yes, so we do. Don’t misunderstand, I’m perfectly content with my progress, I’m just thinking about having to put it to use. I doubt a Templar will stand still for me to attack him.”

“You would be surprised.” Solas pulls me close and I press my face into his collar. “Most warriors in armour believe they are invulnerable. What would you do if one were to approach you, weapon ready to strike?”

“Apart from possibly wetting myself… I’d slick the ground beneath them in ice. If they lose their footing, they’d probably stop advancing, or preferably, fall flat on their arse.”

“A good tactic. I would add that you should also make sure to have a barrier cast at all times and then attempt to keep your distance. To that effect, perhaps we should next practise maintaining your defensive barrier and then stepping across distance.”

He’s so lovely and warm that I don’t want to move. I have no barrier on me at the moment. I need my mana for practising. The cloak keeps out the worst of the chill but not all. The idea of trying out new magic is exhilarating. I’m not sure how much mana I have left, but I’ve used far less than I should have.

I take a moment to contemplate the magics that Solas has mentioned and the knowing of them fills me. The knowledge of barriers supplements what Solas has already shown me. It’s knowing how to Fade step that causes me to pull away from him and gaze into his eyes in wonder.

“This is… Can I really do this? Can I… Can magic really carry me like that? From one place to another in a single step?”

He rubs my upper arms. “More easily than you would believe, my heart. It is not a difficult magic and requires little mana.”

“But… why? Something like this should be _harder_ to do than throwing balls of fire around. How can this be so easy?”

Solas cocks his head. “We could debate the intricacies of magic and how it interacts with reality for years and reach no satisfying conclusion, as many have. For now, simply accept that it is so.”

“Is that your fancy way of saying you don’t know?”

“It is my fancy way of saying that the explanation would take too long.” Power surges within him. “You will practise your defensive barrier now.”

I goggle at the floating balls of snow which now surround us. Then I swallow. “What uh… did you have in mind?”

We move to stand a few metres apart. I bring up a barrier as Solas has taught me. He stands at ease with a swarm of snowballs floating in the air around him. It would look ridiculous if it wasn’t so bloody amazing.

“Maintain your barrier in order to deflect my attacks,” he explains. “It will become more difficult as time passes, especially when I begin using multiple missiles.”

_Multiple missiles_ _. Fan-freaking-tastic._

Without another word a ball of compacted snow hurtles towards me. I dodge, allowing it to pass a hair’s breadth from my face. I realise this isn’t the point of the exercise.

Solas’ arms are crossed, and he gazes at me with one arched eyebrow.

“Sorry, sorry. I won’t do that again,” I say.

“Well, at least you are swift enough to move out of the way of something you can see coming.”

There’s a soft pat on my back and I flinch. Another snowball hits my thigh and then my chest. I stand still, concentrating on the screen of magic which prevents me from feeling the sting of the blows. And they _should_ be stinging. He’s throwing them at me with enough force that they explode into clouds of snow on impact.

My mana slowly drains away, syphoned into the barrier keeping me safe. It’s a little boring to be honest. An idea takes hold of me and I try to keep a grin off my face. I wait for the next impact, then modify the nature of my barrier.

Instead of hitting me, the next snowball he throws at me _rebounds_ directly at him. Solas dodges it with the grace of a ballet dancer and chuckles.

“Well done, Lyrial,” he says. “I was wondering when you would attempt something more.”

I give him a small bow and concentrate on the roof of the dilapidated barn behind him.

_Almost got it… just a little more…_

A cascade of snow pours down on Solas from above.

I double over, laughing hard enough that my stomach aches. Solas brushes snow off his shoulders with unhurried dignity but there’s a hint of amusement in him. The cold doesn’t touch him with his barrier in place... but that was _hilarious_.

“Two may play at this particular game, my heart.”

_Wait, what?_

All the remaining snowballs plunge through the air at me. There are far too many. I grit my teeth as I pour mana into my shield, trying to keep it up. Snow pounds me from all sides. I hunch my shoulders and ball my hands into fists. My barrier is weakening.

Desperation seizes me and I shove all of my mana into my barrier, flaring it outwards in an attempt to recreate my earlier trick.

Snowballs fly away from me in every direction, some of which hit Solas himself. I lean down and rest my hands on my knees, panting. I’m wiped out.

“A skillful display,” Solas says. “However, there is one further lesson to be gained from this.” His expression is mischievous as he walks closer.

“And what… would that… be?”

Cold pours down on me, a weight that steals my balance and I topple to land in the snow.

I groan and stare at his feet which are close to my face.

“The lesson that you should _never_ deplete your mana when in combat.”

I’m nearly buried under a mountain of snow. I get to my knees as it cascades from my back and shoulders. Solas reaches down and helps me up.

I stare at him, then burst out laughing. He joins in and we clutch at each other.

After a few moments I get my breath back and pat him on the cheek. “I will take that lesson to heart, you ass.”

“I would that you do so, my love.”

“That will teach me to try to trick the Dread Wolf. Whatever was I thinking?”

“I can only assume that you were not.”

I shake my head at him. “You’re likely right.” I drape myself over him, shamelessly coaxing him into supporting me. “I’m exhausted now though.”

“And I am satisfied. With more practice you will be capable of holding your own in battle. I would still advise that you not put yourself directly in harm’s way, but even as you are, you could survive a simple fight.”

“What a wonderful vote of confidence. Thank you my heart, I am veritably inspired!”

“You do not realise it but your progress is remarkable. Yes, you have the knowledge you gained from your trade with Learning to thank for the technical aspect but you yourself are improving at an incredible rate.” He holds me upright and uses his other hand to push some snow-flecked hair out of my eyes. “You are already capable of improvisation and adaptation. This exchange proves that. You used magic as an automatic defensive reaction to my attack.”

“Alright.” I heave a breath. “I’ll accept your compliments and assessment at face value. But I still fucked up at the end.”

“A mistake I think you will avoid making in the future.”

“Mana conservation… yes. I really do understand the concept. I’d prefer not to be out of mana when someone is coming at me with a sword.”

“To that end, you need to be taught some rudimentary combat techniques.” Solas hooks my staff from the ground with his and hands it to me. “You should also not release your grip on this, even when knocked prone.”

“I have a great deal to learn.” The weight of the future settles on my shoulders. It’s still exciting but now the reality of it begins to sink in. We’re not practising for the fun of it. We’re talking about _actual_ fighting where people will be trying to kill me.

“Yes, although there is enough time for you to master the fundamentals. We will not be walking into battle tomorrow.” He brushes his lips across my forehead. “And, beyond that, I will not leave your side. I will make sure that _if_ you are alone, you will live through a fight. It is not my intent to allow you to fall into that situation, however.”

I nod and rest my head on his shoulder. My instinct is the get the hell away from dangerous things, especially the sorts of things that live and breathe in Thedas. If at all possible I will do everything in my power to keep a healthy distance between myself and Darkspawn. Or bears, or bandits, or giant spiders… Hell, I’d be inclined to get away from an angry nug if it came at me. I’m _not_ a fighter and certainly not a killer.

 Solas crushes me to his chest as his entire body tenses. He whips his head around, looking at the sky.

“What-”

A flutter of large wings sounds from the roof of the stables. We both turn towards it, staffs held at the ready. Well, I’m holding mine up as some kind of shield, there isn’t much I can do with no mana.

A large dark brown raptor of some kind perches on the eave of the sagging barn roof. It cocks its head, staring down at us with a piercing yellow eye. Then, it hops down, fanning its wings to slow itself. Halfway through the fall its form twists in the air.

A slender man crouches in front of us, the points of his ears peeking through the fringe of his braided red hair. He rearranges himself into a kneeling position and remains still.

_Holy shit holy shit holy shit_ _. That guy was just a bird!_

“Fen’Harel,” he says in a brash, clear voice.

Solas relaxes and folds his arms behind his back, staff wrapped within them. “Rise Artalas, there is no longer any need or reason for such obeisance.”

“It’s my bloody choice to show you respect, as we both know.” He rises from the ground. “And I’ll never stop doing so until my flesh is worm shit.”

He’s dressed in leather and fur. A pack is strapped to his back along with an unstrung bow. A quiver rides at his hip next to other variously sized pouches. Small pieces of carved bone are sewn into his clothing and some dangle from his hair as well. He’s handsome in a way, although his eyes are a little too deep set and his lips too thin for my tastes. He’s also covered in a lattice of thin white scars. Every centimetre of bare skin I can see is criss-crossed.

My staff is still held up before me and I lower it and lean on it. My heart is still racing, blood burning with adrenaline. I squeeze my eyes shut then blink a few times.

“Early, as always,” Solas says. “I’d not expected you till tomorrow.”

“You know me, I’m never satisfied crawling across the ground.” Artalas snorts a laugh. “Though the others will no doubt try to rip my wings off when they finally arrive.”

“And how soon will that be?” Solas says.

“Late tomorrow if the weather holds and they don’t fall into a crevasse and break their necks.”

Solas nods. He glances at me, notes my shock and rests a hand on my shoulder. “Artalas, this is Lyrial. She is my mate.”

“You’re fucking kidding,” Artalas says. He has a good long look at me and I shift under his scrutiny.

“Not in the slightest,” Solas says.

My face warms.

_Am I going to have to go through this with every one of his people? This is getting a bit much._

Suddenly the idea of facing every new elf and their frank disbelief is too daunting. I struggle with my natural introversion and my impulse to hide. To just absent myself from a situation I find uncomfortable. But I can’t do that. I shouldn’t.

I grit my teeth and step forward. “Greetings, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He appears to be deciding whether to laugh. Then, he shrugs and nods at me. “Well met, Lyrial. You will have to excuse my… astonishment. You are not something I expected to encounter. Ever. In fact, I’m still not convinced he isn’t taking the piss.”

_And I don’t_ _meet_ _rude motherfuckers who can turn into birds every day either._

I keep my mouth shut but both men are aware of my emotions.

Frost forms and collects along my staff. Apparently I still have some mana left, or else I’ve recovered a bit.

Solas smiles at me, amused. _Amused_ _._

_What the fuck does he have to be_ _amused_ _about?_   
I grit my teeth and stiffen my back.

Artalas arches an eyebrow then turns to Solas, dismissing me. “I watched you for a while. Fun and games in the snow? While I do appreciate a good lark now and then, can we get out of the cold? I need something to eat.”

Solas sighs. It’s an exasperated and long-suffering sigh, as though this is something he’s used to and has had to put up with for, well, millenia.  

“Do you plan to return to the others today?” Solas asks.

Artalas shakes his head. “They’ll keep until morning. I’ll circle back then and let them know how close they are.”

Artalas shrugs out of his pack and takes his bow stave in hand. His stance is probably deceptively casual. His attitude is devil may care but I suspect he could be moving in less than a heartbeat if he needed to.

This man is _not_ my kind of person. I’m quiet and generally shy. Artalas reminds me of the loud, outgoing, overall obnoxious people I used to go out of my way to avoid. He intimidates the hell out of me and makes me feel incredibly insignificant. It doesn’t help that I know it’s _not true._ This almost reminds me heavily of meeting the family members or close friends of a new boyfriend and finding they dislike me.

Solas glances at me, eyes a cool grey-blue. He sends a thread of his spirit towards me and I clutch it gratefully. I relax my posture and breathe out slowly. I need the reassurance at the moment.

“We will retire for the evening then,” Solas says. “We have done enough for today Lyrial, we can continue when you are rested.”

I nod, grateful to be going back down. I have firm plans to find my way to our bedroom and stay there for a good long while, with or without Solas.

My mood has definitely been ruined.

_Why are they all so trying? I_ _can_ _put up with_ _Felassan_ _because he’s_ _Felassan_ _but this guy…_

But well, Solas _himself_ had been difficult to get along with initially. For the Herald that is. He’d been standoffish and cold to anyone who approached him and had to be convinced of the Herald’s good intentions before agreeing to speak with them.

It’s really not too surprising that Solas’ agents would be similar. Maybe everyone who’s lived for more than a thousand years is just unapologetically themselves.

“Lead on then. I used up most of my energy flying through these mountains. Do you have any idea how shitty the winds are here?” Artalas says.

“I have some, yes,” Solas tells him. “That was part of the reason for building my keep here, after all.”

We pass through the magical doorway which Solas seals behind us again. The walk down is uncomfortable. The two men say nothing and we’re all left in a silence that stretches to awkwardness, at least to me. I’m certain most of it is in my imagination, but it’s causing a headache to grow in my temples.

Artalas gives an appreciative whistle at the door as we pass through and then sighs loudly when we enter the mansion propper. “That’s a sight for sore eyes. I’ll never get over this magic and how useful it is.”

“I would have thought you’d be accustomed to it by now,” I say. “Wasn’t this common?”

Artalas gives me an unreadable look and glances at Solas before answering. “Yes and no. For people like _him,_ sure. For slaves and servants, no. We were lucky if we lived long enough to see it. If some dickhead god didn’t kill a few thousand of us just to see what colour our guts were or some such bullshit.”

That shuts me up. Solas makes a soothing gesture at me.

“If you wish something to eat, follow me,” Solas says.

Artalas’ presence fills the space around us. He makes me feel very much like the outsider I am. I’ve been able to pretend I belong here until now, that me being with Solas is normal, natural. His reaction to me shows how wrong I’ve been. Still, he doesn’t know me, doesn’t know what I’ve gone through being here.

I want Solas to say something, anything, to get this guy to back off a little. But he holds his silence. He’s still inside. Neutral. He’s not going to involve himself.

He leads us both through the passages. Artalas seems content to remain quiet as well. He has a big enough mouth that I suspect he could easily talk if only to hear himself speak. Maybe he doesn’t want to actively piss off Solas. Who knows?

We arrive at the kitchen but before we go inside, I grab Solas’ arm. “I’ll leave you two alone for a bit.”

“You do not have to do that.”

“No, but I want to. You can have your debriefing. I’m tired, I’d like some time to rest.”

Solas looks at Artalas and nods towards the kitchen doors. “Go inside and help yourself, within reason. I will join you shortly.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Artalas says with a grin. “Take your time, I’ve worked up a demon of an appetite.”

The red-haired elf enters the kitchen, leaving us alone.  
Solas takes my hands. “Are you sure this is what you wish? I would not want to exclude you.”

“Yes. I’m not good around strangers, especially when they doubt my value and sincerity to my face. And apart from that, I really am tired. All I want right now is to spend some time relaxing. Maybe with some paper and writing implements.”

“What do you need with those?”

“I think it’s time I make some notes. You need to know what I know and it’ll help me figure out what’s likely to happen now, considering what’s changed.”

Solas squeezes my hands. “Then by all means. Although you do know that you could show me in the Fade. It would be easier for both of us.”

“I’ll do that too. But sometimes it’s better to figure something out by writing it down. Then again, that’s if I _can_ write. I have no idea if it’s just the verbal language I was given.”

“We will see. Come, we will retrieve something for you to make notes with then return to the bedroom.”

We pay a brief visit to something like a study and Solas finds me a notebook and a pen. The kind that _doesn’t_ need to be dipped into ink constantly. Bless magic and everlasting ink enchantments.

When we reach the bedroom all I want is to pull Solas inside with me and not let him leave. I don’t do that though he can feel my desire to.

“I’ll return later, my heart. There are things I must speak about with Artalas. I will not be late nor will I forget our plans for this evening.”

Heat washes through me and I nod, accepting his goodbye kiss graciously.

He leaves me alone, closing the door behind him and I breathe out, finally able to relax a bit.

I prop my staff up in a corner of the room and begin removing the beautiful clothing. After hanging it back up I have a look for something more casual. I want something like a set of pyjamas or a track suit, but all I can find are things one would wear out to a ball, not for sitting in bed.

I shrug after a bit then go to the bed with my notebook and pen and climb in naked. I take some time to lie there, trying to rid myself of my annoyance and unease. The bed smells of _us_ now, not just Solas. It’s wonderful.

That went poorly, to say the least. Of all the ways I could have imagined a meeting with someone who can be considered Solas’ friend to go, this was far from ideal. I’m torn between wanting to just be alone with him forever and wanting to be accepted as a part of his life. It hits me, as I consider the situation, that Solas is so much _more_ than the person I’ve come to know. I’ve been treating the Fen’Harel side of his life as something extra, something I don’t have to acknowledge for the most part. But the Solas I know from my past experiences in Thedas is the _false_ one. Or at least, only a small part of who he is. Sure, I knew this. But I don’t think it has really had a chance to sink in until now.

I told him that I wanted all of him, that I want to know all of him. This, meeting his friends and family, his agents, is a part of that. They are important to him, clearly. Which means I need to make an effort. The thought exhausts me. I bury myself in the blankets and rest with my eyes closed.

After some time I sit up, prop some pillows behind me and place the book on my knees. Yes, I _can_ write Elvhen but it may as well be a preschooler’s first practice sheet. The language is as beautiful in its written form as it is spoken, made of curling, slanted letters. It’s nothing at all like the English alphabet but I have no trouble knowing which letter goes where. It’s my hand that’s the issue.

I sigh and persevere. Thankfully, it gets better as I go along.

I write down everything that would be useful, starting with a breakdown of the events from the Conclave onwards, as they were. Then I make notes of what’s likely to happen with the orb no longer a part of it. I make a point of detailing the specific events affected by the Breach and the anchor and try to come up with alternative scenarios based on the people involved.

I write until my hand cramps and the sun is low in the sky, then I set it all on my bedside table and curl up under the duvet.

I wake up later as Solas climbs into bed beside me. I’m so tired and drowsy that it’s all I can do to reach for him and snuggle against him. He kisses my forehead and holds me close. I let sleep claim me again and drop into the Fade.

* * *

His lips are on my neck, kissing upwards towards my ear. He holds me flush against him and his need throbs between us.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

He pauses and takes a deep breath. “That should be obvious.”

I bring a hand up to rest on the back of his head as he continues his journey across my skin. He reaches my ear and begins nibbling at the delicate flesh.

I sigh as I surrender to his ministrations. His arousal envelops me and I’m wet already. We’re in the Fade though and that makes me hesitate.

“I thought having sex in the Fade was a bad idea, that it attracts demons?”

“Who told you that, my heart?”

“You did, more or less.”

“Then it was a half truth, an answer one would expect a mage of this day to give. No, we are free to act as we will in the Fade. Trust me when I say that none have the power to challenge nor harm us here.”

His breath is warm on my ear, tongue flicking out to tease the point. I tremble at the jolt of pleasure that his actions sends straight to my groin. I grasp hold of him and pull him closer, then begin kissing his neck and shoulder.

I’m not sure where we are. I have a confused impression of sky and moon and dark green, but it could be anywhere.

I grind myself up into him. His length slides along my slick flesh, teasing me. His hands massage and tweak my breasts, playing with my nipples.

His every touch is tender, gentle. There’s no hunger in him, rather a desire to express his regard for me. He wants to make love to me.

I reach down between us and take hold of him. I direct him, place him at the right angle and he slips inside me like a silken whisper.

He places his hands to either side of me and props himself up. He can control the angle and depth now. I raise one of my legs, hooking my heel behind his thigh. He leans down to kiss me with such affection and care. His movements are leisurely. He keeps the pace steady and pulls out of me almost completely with every stroke. The head of him passes my entrance over and over again. The stimulation leaves me breathless and gasping.

I lace my fingers behind his neck and reach up to kiss him again.

He’s making this about me. Giving me what I need, as he did this morning. But even so, he’s enjoying this. He keeps his eyes open when we part, looking into my own. His expression pulls me in. His beautiful, heartbreaking desire and need are plain. His lips are parted, glistening from the touch of mine.

I give myself to him and his care and allow my awareness to spread and encompass him as well. The Fade around us reflects our passion, washing it back to us exponentially. I’m drowning in him and I don’t care.

“Oh, my wolf.” I reach up to seek his lips again.  

My body is his and he uses it with mastery. His pace increases, gradually, and he spends some moments locked deep inside me before resuming. The breath of his soft grunts mingles with my sighs.

Both of us are rising. Heat rolls through me, collecting in my belly. I’m throbbing, aching with want. It swells, filling me... and I overflow.

My muscles clench and my body seizes him, holding him fast within. He spills inside me, filling me. I’m wracked with shudders and he lowers himself to rest on top of me, as he knows I enjoy. He kisses me, lips and tongue licking and passing over my face. I find his lips with mine and thank him.

We lie together in silence for a time after that. Some of my tension has eased but nowhere near all. The days events are still eating at me. My reason for being upset remains.

He knows that I’m not calm. “What is the matter?”

“I didn’t want you here… like this. I know the Fade is just as real as the Unchanging World, but… I wanted you _out there_. I wanted to do what we talked about earlier. The next time we were together I wanted to try that Joining again.”

His nostrils flare and he closes his eyes, then sighs. “I am sorry Lyrial. My talk with Artalas took longer than I predicted and I did not wish to wake you.”

I shake my head. “No, don’t apologise, I’m not upset about that.”

“But you are upset, about him if nothing else.”

I look away from him. “Yes. It’s hard to put into words. I suppose the short explanation is that these are your people, your friends. I wanted them to like me but they don’t or won’t. It wouldn’t matter so much if it were just going to be the two of us alone but it won’t be. Their opinions matter to me because they matter to you.”

“They are protective of me, especially now when I am not what I was.”

“And I _know_ that and understand it. Doesn’t stop it making me feel like shit though. Now I have to go through this with _all_ of them and I’m not sure that I can.”

“I can intervene, my heart but it will only hurt you in the long run. In order to gain their acknowledgment, you must do so on your own. If I have to tell them to treat you well they will, but it will not be because they respect you.”

He’s so warm. I roll us both over in the grass so that we’re lying side by side and hold him tightly.

“So I need to prove myself worthy of you? Is that it? I’m not sure that’s even possible. You’re their _god_ Solas, who could ever be worthy of you?”

“Perhaps not worthy but suitable. In the end, they will respect my opinion and choice in this matter. They can do little else. However, if you want them to _like_ you, you will need to show them that you are their equal, if not mine.”

“Impossible. Solas, I’ve been alive for thirty-six years. That’s all. How could I ever match people who’ve lived several of my lifetimes and who have experienced all that they have?”

“Thirty-six years old,” he says softly. “So very young and already so wise and intelligent, kind and brave. Your age does not define you, nor your level of experience. Do not see your youth as a flaw but rather as an indication of how much more you are capable of growing.”

“Don’t think the disparity between _our_ ages isn’t something that bothers me too,” I say. “I usually try not to think about it.”

“It does not matter as much as you think it does, love. Relative maturity is more important than physical age.”

“Hmm.”

I’m still unhappy. There’s a tightness in my chest and the sense of being trapped. The thought of facing more distrust and dislike from his people is hugely demoralising. I’m struck by the knowledge that I don’t have any friends or family. There’s no one in this world who knows me apart from Solas. And Felassan, but I’m not sure how much he counts.

I have _only_ Solas to turn to for companionship and comfort and Solas himself does not belong solely to me. I’m the upstart in his life, the new person who’s intruding on pre-established relationships.

“I need a friend,” I whisper. “I need someone who’s on my side, who doesn’t judge me but accepts me for who I am.”

“Am I not your friend?” Solas asks.

“You are my heart and my friend and lover but you have so many other demands on your person. You are also very much the point of contention.”

“Then, I have a suggestion. I will introduce you to one of _my_ oldest friends. Perhaps she will be able to provide you with some insight.”

He stands and pulls me up with him. Then we’re both clothed as we were during the day.

“Wisdom?”

Solas nods. “Yes. I had planned to introduce the two of you soon, anyway. I will leave you alone with her once you are comfortable in her presence. I have some tasks to complete this evening.”

We’re somewhere similar but different. It’s another moonlit forest clearing but now there’s an additional feeling of vast age and reverence. The air is still but for a faint breeze which brings with it a sweet scent just on the edge of being overpowering. A vast mass of darkness and lighter shadow blots out much of the night sky directly in front of us. It’s tree, so massive that it would take me several minutes to circle it. The bark is festooned with honeysuckle vines, the source of the sweet smell.

Solas links an arm with mine and we walk forward. Patches of moonlight glitter down through the branches, illuminating stone benches and other masonry below. A dark-haired woman sits on a bench, facing us and smiling. She’s waiting for us, clearly.

“My friend,” Solas says when we grow near. His voice is warm and gentle. He’s far happier to see her than he had been to see Artalas earlier today.

“At last you bring her to me,” Wisdom says, eyes glowing with merriment. “I had begun to fear that you would keep her to yourself forever!”

Her voice is familiar but hearing her and being able to understand her makes it sound so different. And there’s no sorrow or pain. She also isn’t made up of green light. She looks very much like Solas and myself. Flesh and blood as it were.

She stands and walks over to meet us. As soon as she’s close enough, she embraces me. I freeze for a moment, then return the hug. It feels good. More than good. I squeeze her and bury my face in her shoulder.

“There there, my child. Things are not nearly so grim as you may think.”

I pull away and she lets me go. I wipe my eyes and blush when I see there are tears. “I’m sorry.”

“And I am not. There is no reason to be ashamed of your emotions or your need.” Wisdom turns to Solas. “Leave her with me, my friend. She will be safe and there is much we can discuss.”

“If you do not mind?” he says. “I will be gone for some time.”

“Of course not. I am more than eager to talk to the woman you have chosen as your mate.”

“Lyrial?”

“I’m fine. Go my heart, I’ll see you later.”  
He nods and kisses me on the cheek. When he’s gone Wisdom leads me to the bench she had been sitting on.

“I’m very pleased to meet you,” I say. “It’s refreshing to meet one of his friends who doesn’t immediately assume I’m up to something.”

“We have already met, in a sense,” she says. “I believe I have you to thank for the forewarning of my potential fate.”

“Oh… yes. Will you be able to…?”

“Avoid it? Alas, only time will tell. When it grows closer, I will leave this part of the Fade and go elsewhere. Your mate is also seeking a way to prevent me from being bound at all.”

“There are ways. In Rivain they have something called an Amulet of the Unbound, but I think that would only work if you were in the Unchanging World.”

Wisdom gazes at the tree. She has dark brown hair and tanned skin. Her eyes are a clear green.

“If there is no other choice, he has promised to carry me within him for a short time until he can find and deal with those who would summon and bind me.” She looks back at me. “However, I do not want that. It would not be an ideal situation for any of us.”

“Carry you?” I gape at her. “Is that safe?”

“For us, it would be. Our relationship is built upon millenia of trust and care. We are also both quite aware of what such a thing entails. Unlike the two you are thinking of.”

Justice and Anders. Of course they popped into my head as soon as I had a moment to consider.

“Have you done this before?”

She laughs. A beautiful, musical contralto that makes me feel warm and welcome. “Does he strike you as someone who would do such a thing? Ever? No Lyrial, we have not done this before. He values the sanctity of his own mind too greatly for such a thing. It is a mark of how much he wishes to prevent my fate that he would do so now.”

“Could… I do that? Is it possible? I mean, if it came to it, I’d also be happy to do that rather than have what I’ve seen become real.”

She cups my cheek with one warm hand. “It means much that you are sincere but no, you could not. You are too newly real. Your spirit is not yet firmly anchored within you. In essence, there is no ‘room’ inside you for another.”

“What?” Shock spreads through me. “You mean I _can’t_ have a spirit inside me? Or a demon? I can’t be possessed?”

“I think perhaps it could be forced by a powerful spirit if it came to it, but it would be painful for you and very uncomfortable for the invader.”

“Oh.” A weight lifts from me and I’m lightheaded with relief. “Why didn’t Solas tell me this?”

“Perhaps it slipped his mind, or perhaps he underestimated how much relief this knowledge would bring you. He does not see such a thing the way you do.”

“That does make sense.” I sigh. “So, why wouldn’t you want to do it? If it’s safe and it could save you? I don’t… I don’t want you to become what I saw. I’ve never felt anything like that before.”

“There are several reasons.” She says. “One is that you would not want your mate sharing a body with someone else. Especially not when your Joining succeeds as I’ve no doubt it will. It would be very intrusive.”

I blush. “You would be aware of everything around him, wouldn’t you?”

“I would, my dear.” She pats my knee. “But that is not a topic we need discuss right now. There are many things we should address instead.”

“Such as?”

“Before that, I would like to say something.” She turns to face me and takes both of my hands. “Lyrial, do not doubt yourself. You have already accomplished much in the short time you have been here. You have everything you need to succeed within you already. You are wise as I would know. You have always been so. This is an inherent part of you, of what you are, quite apart from what you have lost and gained since you arrived in this world.”

“Wisdom I-”

“Hush, please listen. You have thought long on how to help him. The decisions you have made are wise, if often guided too directly by your love for him. You must understand that sometimes the wisest decision and the best way to assist him is to _not_ give him everything he wants.”

“I don’t suppose you’re willing to be more specific about that?”

She laughs again. “Alas, I cannot be, for _I_ do not have the ability to predict the future.”

“Nor do I. I just know things, most of which might not be true anymore.”

“Semantics. You know what is to come before it happens. Even if your knowledge is limited, it is still valid. You also possess the answer he seeks, linked to an event which is yet to occur. It is an option that is far, far wiser than his previous choice _would_ have been.”

As much as I’m enjoying this meeting it’s quite frustrating. I don’t have that much patience with vagueness.

“Are you willing to tell me what that is?” I ask.

“Lyrial, I am a spirit of _wisdom_ _._ Unlike Learning, I do not prize knowledge for its own sake but rather _understanding_. Wisdom cannot be passed around the way information can be. It is only possible to guide someone to wisdom, not to force them to it. As I have said, the answers are within you.”

“So, I should take the time for more introspection then?”

“If that will help, then yes. Now, let us talk rather of you than of your mate. You have much that troubles you at present.”

Wisdom is probably the best therapist I’ve ever encountered. She listens to me talk and talk and offers advice here and there. She never tells me what I need to do or how, but helps me understand more about what I’m feeling and how to cope with it.

When Solas returns, I’m lighter and overall _much_ better. I have a few ideas about how to deal with his people.

I hug him and he senses my newfound equanimity.

“I’m tired, my love,” I say and kiss him. “But before I go to sleep, there’s something else we should do. You need whatever Learning gave me, right?”

Solas plays with a lock of my hair. “I will not force you to do this now, if you would prefer not to.”

I glance from him to Wisdom. “How would this work?”

“I will need to see inside you, Lyrial.” Wisdom crosses her arms and looks back at me. “You will need to allow me to touch your mind directly.”

I nod. “If that’s all, then go ahead. I’d rather know what happened with Learning than not. It would also give me some peace of mind.”

Solas moves away from me but takes hold of my hand. He squeezes it and gives me his reassurance and love. I’m honestly not bothered by this situation. It’s Wisdom after all.

She stands in front of me and takes my face gently in her hands.

I give her my acceptance and permission.

A sensation like blissful warmth against icy skin fills my mind. It’s in no way invasive or unpleasant. She does nothing more than touch me and it’s over quickly.

Wisdom makes a vexed noise. “Dealing with _that spirit_ is never the wisest course of action.”

“What have you found?” Solas asks her.

She looks at me. “She offered you information in exchange for a look inside you, as I have just done. She wished to know what you know. Not the specific knowledge itself but rather a catalogue of everything that is inside you.”

“Is that all she took?” I ask. I’m a little queasy now.

“I believe so.” Wisdom smiles reassuringly. “In exchange she gave you knowledge pertaining to the Evanuris. It is not much, but could be said to be vital. It is only enough to tantalise you into wanting more, however.”

Solas lets his breath out in a long sigh.

Wisdom shrugs. “They are not where you believe them to be, my friend. Though there is no knowledge of where or how within you, Lyrial. Only that.”

“Not where I believe them to be,” Solas says. “Such knowledge is valuable in and of itself, thankfully. But I now need to know where exactly they _are_. I cannot proceed with my plans until I do.”

“Shit.” I try to swallow but find my mouth dry. “Oh shit, oh shit. Solas, you can’t bring down the Veil until you know where they are! If they get back into the world, they’ll…”

The look in his eyes is dark and fierce. There’s anger and loathing in him, emotions so intense that they burn like acid. He quashes them almost immediately, however.

“I am well aware,” he says. “I will devise some means of finding out where they _are._ For now, you should rest.” Then he grins at me. “You have once again helped me beyond measure.”

This is ridiculously bad, but it’s not an emergency. For now, as long as the Veil is up the Evanuris will stay where they are. Of course, the Veil _needs_ to come down. It’s the end goal but won’t happen soon either, not until we find a means by which to unlock his foci.

I’m exhausted now. It’s been a long day for me again. Maybe not all that active but the combination of emotional strain and mana depletion is taking its toll.

“It was truly a pleasure to meet you Wisdom,” I say. “I hope we can speak again soon.”

She nods. “Any time you feel the need to, I will be here. You have but to find me.”

“I will remain in the Fade a while longer,” Solas says. “But I will see you in the morning.”

I kiss him goodnight. “I look forward to waking then.”

The thread connecting me to my sleeping self is easy to find now. I follow it and feel the familiar, comforting weight of my body surround me again.

* * *

I wake with the seed of an idea sprouting in my mind. It’s not something I want to discuss with him until I’m _completely_ sure it will work. All the same, I’m consumed by excitement and hope. The answer is so obvious! I must have referred to it at least a few times in my notes without even realising.

I know how to unlock the orb.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay... so I was stuck on this for a long time because I couldn't seem to get Artalas to be believable. Also... general writers rut perhaps. Oh well.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Romance at the Winter Palace](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17043044) by [ThirdPretender](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirdPretender/pseuds/ThirdPretender)




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